V 




; 

i 



SERMONS. 



SERMON, 




CHRISTIAN COMMUNION, 



DESIGNED TO 



PROMOTE THE GROWTH OF THE RELIGIOUS 
AFFECTIONS, 



BY LIVING MINISTERS. 



TRULY OUR FELLOWSHIP IS WITH THE FATHER AND WITH HIS SON. — 1 John i. 3. 



EDITED BY 

T. R. SULLIVAN. 



BOSTON: 
WM. CROSBY AND H. P. NICHOLS, 
111 Washington Street. 
1848. 



I THE LI BR AET | 

| of congress | 
1 Washingto n! 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1847, by 
Thomas Russell Sullivan, 
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts 



CAMBRIDGE: 
METCALF AND COMPANY, 
PRINTERS TO THE UNIVERSITY. 



PREFACE. 



" By Christian communion the strength of one, 
the light, the trust, the piety, the peace of one, 
become the strength, and light, the trust, piety, and 
peace, of many." * 

Christian communion is a joint participation in 
the same religious hopes, affections, and aims. 
Sermons on Christian communion, accordingly, are 
discourses poured forth from deep Christian feeling, 
with the design of exciting it in others. As the . 
Lord's Supper always revives this holy unity of 
mind, that occasion has thence taken the name of 
the Communion. It is observable that religious 
addresses to the affections and the will — those 
which urge most impressively upon men the duty 
of consecrating themselves to God through the 
Saviour — - are wont to be in some manner con- 
nected with preparation for the Lord's table, and 
the profession of Christianity. Public profession 
and Christian communion, ideas not inseparable, are 



* Dr. Putnam. 

a* 



PREFACE. 



by custom joined in one. For though a serious 
Christian worshipper may be a communicant with- 
out any other open confession of Christ more for- 
mal or express, yet professing members, united as 
such, have a regular place in the established order 
of our churches. 

To be a professor or communicant implies a 
lively sense of personal obligation, and of active 
service due to Christ and the truth. It implies 
a fellowship of purpose with the Father and the 
Son, and a fellowship of hope with that unnum- 
bered multitude, — that "cloud of witnesses," — 
ever ascending from earth to heaven, who have 
been partakers of the like spirit. It is an impor- 
tant use of the act of public profession to make the 
truth impressive to the community, while it is the 
effect of' the rite of commemoration to render it 
affecting to the individual. It may, therefore, be 
said to be the design of the ordinance to deepen 
religious feeling and conviction. 

This work is not, however, confined to the spe- 
cial claims of that institution. Whether provided 
for the communion day or not, its plan, like its 
name, would include all sermons addressed to the 
religious sensibilities, — both those adapted to awak- 
en a tender sense of what is due to God and Christ, 
with a corresponding desire to commence a relig- 
ious life, and those suited to advance the already 
awakened interest towards the highest attainments 
of the spiritual and heavenly mind. In conformity 
with this, the real though not formal arrangement 
of the contents makes a series of practical discourses 



PREFACE. 



Vll 



of the persuasive kind,* relating to repentance, or 
the duty of beginning the Christian course, to 
edification, or the encouragements to progressive 
Christian improvement, and to the Eucharistic ser- 
vice, as affording exercise for all the grateful and 
devout affections of the heart in every stage of its 
subjection to Christian discipline. 

The design of this publication is, then, partly, 
to heighten the interest in the communion. But 
since interest in the communion is only a means 
of grace in connection with preaching, — the great 
appointed means of keeping faith alive and fruit- 
ful in the world, — it is hoped also that it may 
react upon the pulpit, through a response to the 
call for a style more persuasive and affecting. In 
the language of Sydney Smith, — u The forms 
which the Gospel exacts are few, and instituted for 
the only purposes for which forms ought to be in- 
stituted, to awaken attention to realities." Preach- 
ing the word is only impressing through the ear 
those very realities which the communion symbol- 
izes through the eye. Practically to regard the oc- 
casion as a stand-point at the outset of the Chris- 
tian race, and the departing-place of the Christian's 
ever-renewed progress, might secure to the minis- 
try the double benefit of greater unity of effort and 
more individual earnestness. " The want is, — 
everywhere in the pulpit the want is of that sim- 
ple and deep religious sensibility which would give 
a vitality and charm to many a discourse that has 



* See Campbell's Lectures, p. 221. 



Vlll 



PREFACE. 



sense enough and truth and wisdom enough in it, 
but yet is perfectly dead, and leaves the hearer 
dead, for want of that living earnestness in the 
preacher." # 

If the plan have wholly succeeded, the reader, 
as he goes on, will increasingly feel the pulpit's 
moving influence upon the better part of his na- 
ture, — the more than human influence of the word, 
earnestly preached, to enlighten and convince, to 
excite and to soothe, to humble and to elevate, to 
comfort, establish, and control, — and should he be 
so affected by but one sermon out of all the collec- 
tion, the plan will- not have entirely failed. He 
will meanwhile be led to form a just estimate of 
the true purpose and power of the pulpit. He will 
feel that its highest object is accomplished then, 
and then only, when, through its ministrations, the 
conscience has been aroused, deep religious impres- 
sions have been made, and, as the final result of 
these more serious convictions, men have been per- 
suaded to take the decisive step in the Christian 
course of dedicating themselves to God in a life of 
simple religious obedience and high Christian en- 
deavour. The volume thus prepared may serve, 
we trust, with the Divine blessing, to awaken a 
more fervent piety, to dispose men to more Chris- 
tian methods of living, and to promote a revival of 
pure religion ; and thus advance the pulpit's ex- 
alted work. 

THE EDITOR. 



* Dr. Dewey. 



NOTE. 



" Koivcovla, fellowship, 1 John i. 3. ' Truly our fellowship 
is with the Father and with his Son.' In this passage kol- 
vavia (koinonia) means a joint participation of something with 
others. The same word also signifies a fellowship, or company 
of men joined together ■'by a common bond, for the purpose of 
obtaining certain advantages by means of their union. Among 
the heathens there were a variety of such fellowships, many of 
them for the purpose of celebrating the mysteries or secret wor- 
ship of their gods. The particular god in honor of whom the 
fellowship was instituted was considered as the head of it, and 
the author of the benefits which the associated expected to derive 
from their fellowship in his worship. In this sense the word 
fellowship is with great propriety applied to the disciples of Christ, 
united, by their common faith, into one society or church for 
worshipping the only true God, through the mediation of his Son 
Jesus Christ, and for receiving from him through the same medi- 
ation the great blessings of protection and direction in this life, 
and of pardon and eternal happiness in the world to come. 
Agreeably to this account of Christian fellowship, the Apostle, 
in this third verse, contrasts the heads thereof with the heads of 
the heathen fellowship, — { Truly our fellowship is with the 
Father and with his Son.' " — Macknight on 1 John i. 3. 

"In 1 Cor. x. 16, the same Greek word is rendered communion 
in the English : — ' The cup of blessing which we bless, is it 
not the communion [Koivcovia^ joint participation] of the blood of 
Christ? The bread which we break, is it not the communion [kol- 
voovia, joint participation] of the body of Christ? ' This account 
of the Lord's Supper the Apostle gave, to show the Corinthians 
that by eating thereof the partakers declare they have the same 
object of worship, the same faith, the same hope, and the same 
dispositions with the persons whom they join in that act of re- 
ligion, and that they will follow the same course of life." — Ibid. 



CONTENTS. 



Sermon Page 
I. Man before God in the Attitude of a Sinner. By Rev. 

H. A. Miles, Lowell, Massachusetts, 1 

II. Religious Solicitude. By Rev. F. Parkman, D. D., New 

North Church, Boston, Mass. [Church founded 1714],* 11 

III. Worth of the Soul. By Rev. -S. Judd, Augusta, Maine, 23 

IV. The Simplicity of Christian Duty. By Rev. F. D. Hun- 



tington, South Congregational Church, Boston, . . 38 

V. Preparations for the Christian Race. By Rev. C. T. 

Brooks, Newport, Rhode Island, 54 

VI. The Pleadings of God's Spirit. By Rev. N. Hall, Dor- 

chester, Mass. [Church founded 1630], 67 

VII. The Attraction of the Father. By Rev. J. I. T. Cool- 

idge, Purchase Street Church, Boston, 76 

VIII. Faith the Child of Life. By Rev. G. W. Briggs, Ply- 
mouth, Mass. [Church founded in England, 1602, re- 
moved to Plymouth, N. E., 1620], 85 

IX. The Adaptation of Christianity. By Rev. A. A. Liv- 

ermore, Keene, N. H., 97 

X. The Gospel suited to Human Weakness. By Rev. J. 

Whitman, Lexington, Mass. [Church founded 1696], 109 
XI. The Christian Empire. By Rev. J. W. Thompson, Sa- 
lem, Mass., 125 

XII. Faith in Christianity as a Fact. By Rev. H. W. Bel- 
lows, New York, N. Y., 138 

XIII. Trust in God. By Rev. E. S. Gannett, D. D., Federal 

Street Church, Boston [Church founded 1727], . .151 

XIV. Obstacles in the Way of Christian Obedience. By Rev. 

A. P. Peabody, Portsmouth, N. H., 164 



* Where the date is wanting, the churches (with one exception) are of compara- 
tively recent origin. 



xii 



CONTENTS. 



XV. Perfection the Christian's Aim. By Prof. J. Walker, 

D. D., University Chapel, Cambridge, Mass., . . . 176 
XVI. The Christian Home. By Rev. C. Robeins, Second 

Church, Boston [Church founded 1650], 188 

XVII. Household Impediments. By Rev. G. E. Ellis, Charles- 
town, Mass., 201 

XVIII. Christian Education. By Rev. G. Putnam, D.D., Rox- 

bury, Mass. [Church founded 1630], 212 

XIX. Jesus our Redeemer. By Rev. J. H. Morison, Milton, 

Mass. [Church founded 1678], 226 

XX. Love to Christ. By Rev. A. Young, D. D., New South 

Church, Boston [Church founded 1719], 238 

XXI. Christ's Love for Man. By Rev. E. B. Hall, Provi- 
dence, R. I. [Church founded 1728], 251 

XXII. The Sufferings of Christ. By Rev. S. G. Bulfinch, 

Nashua, N. H., 263 

XXIII. On the Remembrance of Christ. By Rev. O. Dewey, 

D. D., New York, N. Y., 275 

XXIV. Hours with the Comforter. By Rev. S. Osgood, Provi- 

dence, R. I., 290 

XXV. The Primitive Supper. By Rev. A. Hill, Worcester, 

Mass [Church founded 1785], ........ 302 

XXVI. A Communion Sermon. By Rev. W. H. Furness, 

D. D., Philadelphia, Pa., 314 

XXVII. Paradoxes in the Institution of the Lord's Supper. By 
Rev. N. L. Frothingham, D. D., First Church, Bos- 
ton [Church founded 1630], 326 

XXVIII. Duty of Observing the Lord's Supper. By Rev. E. Pea- 
body, King's Chapel, Boston [Church founded 1686], 336 

XXIX. False Shame and True Glory. By Rev. S. K. Lothrop, 

Brattle Street Church, Boston [Church founded 1699], 350 
XXX. The Saviour's Joy. By Rev. C. A. Bartol, West 

Church, Boston [Church founded 1686], 362 

XXXI. Christian Union. By Rev. A. B. Muzzey, Cambridge, 

Mass., 372 



SERMON I . 



BY HENRY A. MILES. 



MAN BEFORE GOD IN THE ATTITUDE OF A SINNER. 

GOD EE MERCIFUL TO ME A SINNER ! — Luke Xviii. 13. 

By a few simple and graphic words, what wonderful 
pictures did Jesus draw ! The parable with which this 
text is connected holds up before us almost a living 
scene. We can see the proud Pharisee with his broad 
phylactery and boastful self-righteousness, and with that 
curl of contempt on his lip when he saw the despised 
publican at his side ; nor is the picture of the publi- 
can himself less strongly marked, with his downcast 
look, smiting his humble and contrite heart, and daring 
to offer only the words, ic God be merciful to me a 
sinner ! " Language cannot paint any thing more striking 
than the contrast here presented. In all ages of Chris- 
tendom, in all tongues into which the Gospel has been 
translated, and in all minds which have received the 
words of Jesus, has this parable been preserved, a liv- 
ing picture, rebuking spiritual pride, and showing to us 
the true attitude in which we should present ourselves 
before God. 

This is the lesson which I would offer to you at this 
1 



2 



MAN BEFORE GOD A SINNER. 



time : the attitude in which we should come before 
God is the attitude of sinners humbly seeking forgive- 
ness. With no plea of self-righteousness, with no 
thought of any merit, with no complacency in view of 
our good lives or good intentions, with no expectation 
of favor on the ground of any right or claim, but re- 
membering that all favor is of grace, that all notice is 
of condescension, that in God's sight we are guilty 
beings, and that our first want is that of forgiveness, we 
are to sue for it in humility, in deep self-abasement, — 
" God be merciful to us who are sinners ! " 

This is acknowledging the true relation in which we. 
stand. The relation is that of sinners. No self-delu- 
sion can prevent us from seeing this. So long as we 
know that there are duties which we have put by, 
opportunities which we have not improved, gifts for 
which we have not been thankful, invitations which 
we have unheeded, and clear, positive laws which we 
have not obeyed, how can we possibly conceal the fact 
that for all this we are guilty ? There is no man liveth 
and sinneth not. Frailties and infirmities cleave to 
the best, so much as to make humble confession and 
earnest entreaty for forgiveness perpetually necessary. 
What, then, must be the case with all others, who live 
so easy and careless, who give so little of their hearts 
to Him to whom their whole heart is due, and whose 
rule of life is their gain, their pleasure, their reputation, 
their ease, and not the law and pleasure of Him whose 
they are, and whom they are bound to serve ? Yes, we 
are indeed sinners, to an extent which we do not know. 
Angels and spirits above us, who see our capabilities 
and obligations, see our guilt, too, far more clearly than 
we see it ; but no thoughtful survey of our condition 



MAN BEFORE GOD A SINNER. 



3 



can fail to open our eyes to it, or to bring the convic- 
tion that we are like those servants who knew their 
Lord's will but did it not. The attitude, then, of pen- 
itents pleading for mercy is the attitude which becomes 
such beings as we, — there is fitness and propriety in 
it, — there is a call and necessity for it, — the prayer, 
" God be merciful to me a sinner ! " is the prayer which 
our condition demands. 

This is the attitude and prayer, moreover, to which 
-the Gospel endeavours to bring us. The very first word 
which the Saviour uttered in his preaching was Repent. 
In all his discourses he addresses man as a sinner, who 
has need of forgiveness. He came into the world on 
purpose to give repentance unto Israel, and forgiveness 
of sins. Everywhere he holds up a pure and holy 
standard, that by looking at that men might see their 
own short-comings and sins ; and everywhere he pre- 
sents the Father in the light of a placable and gracious 
being, who would never refuse forgiveness to repentant 
supplication. Thus he sought to bring us into that state 
of self-humiliation in which we shall cry to God for 
mercy. Prayer for forgiveness was one of the peti- 
tions included in the brief model which he gave to his 
disciples when he taught them to pray. The poor sin- 
sick prodigal, returning in low self-abasement to his 
father's house, and the humble publican, smiting his 
breast, and saying, " God be merciful to me a sinner ! " 
— for what were these pictures drawn, if not to show us 
the way of our approach to Him from whom we have 
wandered, and against whom we have sinned ? When, 
then, we do approach Him in this way, we may be sure 
we are right ; when we come renouncing all thought of 
our own merits and claims and rights, when we come 



4 



MAN BEFORE GOD A SINNER. 



under a lively sense of our ill-deserts, and plead humbly 
for compassion and pardon, we come in the way which 
Jesus directs and the Gospel requires, we come in the 
spirit which the Bible, from one end of it to the other, 
enjoins, and without which we may seek and pray in 
vain. 

Still again : the prayer of one who feels himself to 
be a sinner, and is humbly pleading for God's mercy, — 
that is the prayer which is most effectual with God. 
We may suppose that the same principles operate in 
the breast of the Divine Father which are so effectual 
in the breast of an earthly father. How it is with us 
who are parents we all well know. Never are the 
parental feelings so much moved as when the disobe- 
dient child returns, and says, "Father, I have done 
wrong ; do forgive ! " The greater have been his wan- 
derings and the deeper has been his guilt, the more 
do our hearts yearn towards the supplicating penitent. 
Every evidence of his sense of self-abasement, and 
every imploring look for our mercy, touches fountains 
of pity and love in our hearts which have never before 
been so deeply moved. We know that we love all our 
children, but for this one we feel a depth of interest and 
affection which we are not conscious at the time that we 
entertain for the rest. Now it is certain that Jesus does 
authorize us to transfer these feelings of an earthly par- 
ent to the breast of the great Father in heaven. For 
observe what it is that he tells us : — u There is joy in 
heaven over one sinner that repenteth" ; and then, rec- 
ognizing the same fact in the feelings of God which I 
have just named as what we are conscious of ourselves, 
the Saviour adds, — " more than over ninety-and-nine 
just persons who need no repentance." These are a 



MAN BEFORE GOD A SINNER. 



5 



father's feelings. Other children, good and obedient 
though they are, do not for the moment so move his heart 
as that one repenting child. How strongly is this brought 
out in the parable of the Prodigal Son ! Coming back 
to excuse his delinquencies, to palliate his crimes, and to 
attempt to justify himself, the prodigal would not have 
been received ; he would have been driven forth from the 
door, as unworthy of a father's forgiveness, unworthy of 
the companionship of that elder son who had never diso- 
beyed. But coming in a different attitude, coming own- 
ing all, disclosing all, feeling all, coming self-abased, 
broken-hearted, asking only to be admitted as a servant, 
how could a father's heart resist this ? The fatted calf 
must be killed, and more rejoicing made than ever the 
elder son saw, though he had never transgressed. 
These, I say it again, are a father's feelings, and they 
are the feelings of the great Father of all. He who 
seeks Him in low self-abasement, in earnest entreaty 
for mercy, will find God's ear open to hear him, though 
no other prayer be heard. Nothing is sooner heard 
in heaven, and nothing is more effectual there, than 
the simple words, coming from a contrite heart and 
from humble lips, u God be merciful to me a sinner ! " 

Neither, as I add in the fourth place, is any thing 
more effectual for our own deepest peace. Because, 
for this, a man must feel that he is in a true relation 
to God. We are accustomed to speak of the joys and 
satisfactions of worship, prayer, and a religious life. 
But suppose all this is outward and formal, standing in 
decencies, proprieties, and respectabilities, and covering 
up secret depths of guilt in the heart, which have never 
yet been probed and laid open to the light of God's 
eye, then there must be a perpetual consciousness of 
1* 



6 



MAN BEFORE GOD A SINNER. 



hollowness and insufficiency, which will be fatal to all 
true enjoyment of religion. Much of what is called 
religion, in the world, is of this character, and can yield 
only unsatisfying fruit. Built upon the idea of a gen- 
erally correct moral life, a fair compliance with virtu- 
ous precepts, and a bodily attendance upon ordinances 
of worship, it may minister to self-complacency and 
spiritual pride, but must be a stranger to the deepest 
and holiest peace. That can come only from a true 
relation to God, — from a conviction that we do know 
ourselves, — that the deepest places of bosom-sins, and 
self-delusions, and secret faults we have laid open to the 
light, — have confessed all and deplored all, — have dared 
to look upon the nakedness of our souls, concealing noth- 
ing, excusing nothing, and taking the lowest place of 
self-renunciation and abasement. It is from this point 
that all true peace begins. God enters that heart which 
has thus emptied itself of every self-reliance and every 
secret guile. No washing cleanses like the tears of 
penitence ; no fire purifies like the loathing of all sin. 
If all spiritual experience be r jt a delusion, no emotion 
exceeds the thrilling joy of a consciousness of par- 
doned sin. 

" Sweet was the time when first I felt 
The Saviour's pardoning Mood 
Applied to cleanse my guilty soul, 
And bring it home to God." 

I am speaking of what we do know by our own expe- 
rience if we are truly Christians. There have been 
times when we have searched ourselves, and have 
probed our hearts to the quick. We have felt naked, 
and helpless, and sinful, and have lifted up our voice for 
pardon, and have found the words of our text the fittest 



MAN BEFORE GOD A SINNER. 



? 



to express the cry of our soul. And God has heard 
us, and come into our souls, and fulfilled his promise 
that he would be in us ; and has given us a sense of his 
presence and favor which we would not exchange for a 
kingdom, — no, not for a world. How many humble and 
devout souls have spoken of this sense of pardoned sin 
as the most thrilling emotion which it is given to mortal 
heart to know, the corner-stone of all religious peace, 
without which the path of virtue is a path of disagreea- 
ble restraints, and all outward worship a heartless 
formality ! So was it to those alluded to in the text. 
See how the case of the Pharisee and publican confirms 
the truth which I have now set forth. The Pharisee 
went, down from the Temple to his house, thankful that 
he had offered his prayers, and that he could give so 
good an account of himself to his Maker and Judge. 
But was there a deep current of peace flowing through 
his inmost soul ? Had he no half-consciousness of 
something covered up and hollow within ? I tell you 
that the publican went down to his house justified rather 
than the other, because he felt in a true relation to God, 
— because he felt that, in his degradation and guilt, 
which he laid all open and lamented, God had yet come 
to him, and had blessed him with his mercy and his 
love. 

My friends, the great lesson which I would have you 
learn from what I have now said is this : there is but 
one gate through which we can come acceptably to 
God, and that is the gate of penitence and self-renunci- 
ation. God might have made human condition differ- 
ently. Starting from the innocence of infancy, he might 
have ordained that we should never fall, but should ever 
advance towards angel and archangel excellence and 



s 



MAN BEFORE GOD A SINNER. 



blessedness. But this is not the constitution of things 
under which we live. We each fall from our native 
purity, and pass through the waters of sin. It seems 
mysterious to us how this is connected with our higher 
advancement, but so no doubt it is. The growth of 
some of the highest and noblest virtues is favored by 
that deep penitence and self-abasement to which we are 
called. Such are the virtues of gentleness, compassion 
for others, distrust of ourselves, a keener sense of God's 
goodness, a humble leaning upon Him for all our hope, 
a hungering and longing that that heart may be filled 
by Him which else will be filled with what we have 
come to loathe and deplore. We always recognize 
this principle in the estimate we make of character, 
and venerate him the more who has attained to virtues 
through penitence, trial, and self-discipline, rather than 
inherited them through an amiable constitution. 

Nor let us fail to see another deeply important truth 
which our subject should teach us. All true excellence 
must have its beginning in the lowest views of ourselves. 
How can you expect him to make any efforts for himself 
who does not know his own wants, who looks compla- 
cently upon his present state, and feels that he is doing 
well enough ? It is he who has searched his case to the 
bottom, who has dared to look into all his deficiencies 
and sins, and who, laying all open, sees that he is noth- 
ing of himself, — he it is that will make that prayer, 
struggle, and rebound by which alone the spirit can rise 
and soar high. Thus the ladder to an angel's greatness 
stands on the lowest human abasement, and we cannot 
place ourselves on that series of steps but by going 
down and planting our foot on the first round. We 
need, therefore, a religion which shall humble man's 



MAN BEFORE GOD A SINNER. 



9 



pride, and bring him to seek for mercy as a sinner. 
The old theology is right in affirming this. It errs only 
in the way of seeking it. It is not by pouring contempt 
on our nature, for that is taking away the very cause why 
we should feel abased. But it is by showing our abuse 
of our nature, our love of the world, our indifference to 
spiritual realities, our secret palterings with sin, our pre- 
ferring, — instead of soaring to the high and blessed 
things for which we were made, — our preferring to sink 
down to the low and poor things of time and sense. Here 
is enough to make us weep, and to take the attitude of 
penitent supplication. A religion which does not bring 
us to these depths of self-abasement, a religion which 
concerns itself only with superficial moralities, a religion 
which teaches us to see nothing in sin which we need 
to loathe, and nothing in ourselves which we can bit- 
terly repent, — that religion breathes not the spirit of the 
Gospel, deals not truly with man, is as false to his deep- 
est wants as it is powerless to realize his highest hopes, 
inasmuch as it can never nourish higher than common- 
place virtues. 

One other lesson, my friends, and I have done. Let 
us doubt whether we are on the right path if we have 
never been brought, in the sincerity and depths of our 
soul, to offer the prayer of my text. Not that w T e 
should be always mourning over our sins, and sitting in 
sackcloth and ashes. True religion should doubtless 
make us feel peaceful, happy, serene. And such will be 
its fruits if we have built our hopes on a rock. But even 
then there will be times of serious self-questioning and 
self-dissatisfaction, when we shall see infirmities, omis- 
sions, short-comings, bosom-sins which are ever easily 
besetting us, and shall feel that we can be nothing to 



10 



MAN BEFORE GOD A SINNER. 



God, that we have no strength and no health of our 
own, and that it is on his mercy alone that we can 
rely. And now what I say is, let us distrust and suspect 
ourselves, if we are never visited by such moments as 
these. I am much impressed with the fact, that the 
more men grow in goodness, and the clearer becomes 
their spiritual vision, the livelier, also, is their sense of 
indwelling sin, and they feel that all that they have they 
owe to God's mercy, for they are nothing of themselves. 
The case is parallel to what we see in other depart- 
ments of human inquiry and progress. The new stu- 
dent of any science soon feels that he knows a vast 
deal upon the subject, and his superficial complacency 
comes only from the fact that he has never sounded 
down in its fathomless depths. But as he pursues his 
investigations, his progress in knowledge is proved by 
his conviction that he knows less, till the height of 
human knowledge is to know that we know nothing at 
all. So is it in the religious life. How many are there 
whose superficial self-complacency proves that they 
have seen but little of the heights and depths either 
of God's truth or of their own nature ! We may be 
sure that we are not advancing, if we do not often meet 
with moments when all pride is humbled, when a sense 
of our ill-desert is lively, and we feel that we know 
nothing and are nothing in the presence of that Infinite 
before which we stand in awe. And let us all remem- 
ber, that if we would build up a temple which shall 
rise in fair and lofty proportions, with turrets on which 
shall play the sunshine of God's smile, and with spire 
losing itself in the clear blue of heaven, we must first 
go down far below all that can be seen, and have our 
foundations in the lowest humility and self-abasement. 



SERMON II. 



BY FRANCIS PARKMAN. 



RELIGIOUS SOLICITUDE. 

GOOD MASTER, WHAT SHALL I DO THAT I MAY INHERIT ETERNAL 

life ? — Mark x. 17. 

AND HE TREMBLING AND ASTONISHED SAID, " LORD, WHAT WILT 
THOU HAVE ME TO DO? " — Acts ix. 6. 

It is natural to the humble heart, to the spirit op- 
pressed by a sense of weakness and sin, to seek with 
earnestness the way to peace. To the sinner, who has 
wandered far from his God, conscious of ill-desert, 
and knowing that his only hope is in his Father's 
mercy, the inquiry of my text is of the deepest in- 
terest ; and we have the utmost reason for gratitude 
to God, that in the Gospel of his Son it is so clearly 
and so graciously answered. 

At the same time, the whole history of religion and 
the history of our race, while they have shown the 
solicitude with which men have sought acceptance, 
that they might find mercy with God, show also the 
perverseness of ingenuity with which they have sub- 
stituted something of their own devices for true relig- 
ion ; placing it in what it is not, utterly forgetting or 
not choosing to accept it in what it is. In proportion 
to the love of the besetting sin, or the cherished evil 



12 



RELIGIOUS SOLICITUDE. 



habit, was the earnestness to offer something like ex- 
piation. And the record of what superstition has in- 
vented for the quieting of conscience and allaying the 
fears of the transgressor, by its altars and its sacri- 
fices, by its bodily inflictions, its frequent fastings, its 
wearisome pilgrimages, that neither took away sin nor 
the intention to commit it, serve but to confirm the 
sentiment of a sagacious moralist, — that to find, a 
substitute for violated morality is the leading feature 
and design of all false religions. 

Now it belongs to the religion we profess, it enters 
into every conception we can entertain of the Gospel 
of Christ Jesus, that upon questions vital, as is this, 
to the human soul, it gives the most explicit answer. 
That while upon subordinate topics much is left un- 
explained, all that is essential to man's virtue and 
man's salvation is clearly exhibited. For "behold, 
one came running to Jesus, and said, Good Master, 
what shall I do that I may inherit eternal life ? " Such 
was the momentous question. Mark now the brevity, 
the simplicity, the comprehensiveness of the answer. 
u If thou wilt enter into life, keep the command- 
ments." And whatever might have been the purport 
of the same question in the mind of the affrighted 
jailer, as given in the record of the Acts, however 
his thoughts might have been occupied by the hope 
of a mere temporal deliverance, of escaping the con- 
sequences of an official negligence, the answer given 
him related to a far higher object. The apostle, turn- 
ing from the things temporal to the things eternal, 
speaking to the needs rather than to the wishes of his 
hearer, replied, " Believe on the Lord Jesus, and 
thou shalt be saved," — saved not only from the wrath 



RELIGIOUS SOLICITUDE. 



13 



of a Roman governor, and the punishment of thy 
neglect, but from spiritual death. And, you will re- 
member, it was this same apostle who, when on his 
errand of persecution to Damascus he was arrested 
by the heavenly vision, cried out with trembling solici- 
tude to the Saviour whose disciples he was pursuing, 
u Lord, what wilt thou have me to do ? " 

The solicitude which suggests such inquiries must, 
I apprehend, be experienced in greater or less de- 
grees, at some period or another, by every reflecting 
mind. Let us hope — although in surveying the as- 
pects of society and the undeniable worldliness and 
insensibility that prevail it may seem like hoping 
against hope — that there are few in any Christian 
community, living under the good influences of relig- 
ious institutions, who never give to such a subject a 
serious thought. We have but to remember, that this 
world is not our home, that we are destined to im- 
mortality, that on present character depends final des- 
tiny, and we cannot but anxiously inquire, " "What 
shall I do to be saved ? " He who has never- felt some 
solicitude upon this subject, — whose memory, amidst 
all his consciousness of frailty and all the monitions of 
God's providence, cannot recall some serious thought 
as to his character, his spiritual condition and hopes, 
must be strangely engrossed by the life that is, — must 
be sadly insensible to the life that is to come. 

That state of mind which prompts to such inqui- 
ries is a state altogether reasonable in beings such 
as we are, accountable and immortal ; and, by what- 
ever name it may be called, should be carefully cher- 
ished. I am not ignorant that what is sometimes 
technically described as " religious concern " may be 
2 



14 



RELIGIOUS SOLICITUDE. 



exhibited in doubtful or erroneous forms. It may spring 
from mistaken conceptions of religion, of the charac- 
ter of God, and the requirements of his law. It may 
be connected with much that we may disapprove. It 
may exhibit itself in forms revolting to a just relig- 
ious sensibility, and in conduct tempting us to doubt 
the reality of the feeling itself. But, after all, the 
worst error we can commit, the most deplorable of all 
mistakes upon this matter, is to have no religious con- 
cern at all. You may deride, if you can, the delu- 
sions of the fanatic, you may proudly reject his doc- 
trines and his practices as extravagant, contemptible, 
and absurd, and all the while be committing yourself 
the far greater, because fatal error, of having no re- 
ligion at all. Little as we may approve the extrava- 
gances of the enthusiast, utterly as we condemn the 
pretensions of the hypocrite or the loathsome exhibi- 
tions of the conceited, we adopt unreservedly the sen- 
timent of a Christian philosopher,* that the wildest 
opinions ever entertained on the great interests of re- 
ligion, be it only with sincerity, are more rational than 
irreligious indifference or blind unbelief. For " upon 
this subject," says he, "nothing is so absurd as indif- 
ference ; no folly so contemptible as thoughtlessness 
or levity." 

Now, the solicitude of which my text is an expres- 
sion may be awakened by a variety of causes, and it 
may also be variously exhibited. It may be the result 
of religious education. It may spring up in the heart, 
from the hidden depths of the soul, unbidden by any 
outward influences. It may come with calm reflec- 

* See Dr. Paley's Discourses. 



RELIGIOUS SOLICITUDE. 



15 



tion, such as every thoughtful man, such as all men if 
they be wise, will be disposed to give to the great 
themes of religion ; and which, with the help of God's 
spirit upon the heart, — not to be separated or distin- 
guished from the operations of our own minds, — will 
be followed by peaceful fruits. Beginning in sources 
like these, it will become the settled conviction of the 
mind, and manifest itself in the quiet tenor of the life 
rather than in any tumult or transport of the affections. 
Being, alike in its origin and effects, independent of out- 
ward circumstances, and not liable to change with these, 
it will be found, I apprehend, at once the most health- 
ful, the most rational, and therefore the most durable 
form of " religious concern. " 

For he who in the secret silence of his mind re- 
flects upon his condition and his destiny, who, in what- 
ever outward circumstances he may find himself, com- 
muning with his own heart, considers what he is, what 
he has done, and still has to do, whither he is hasten- 
ing, and at whose tribunal he must appear, will assured- 
ly find enough in these momentous thoughts to awaken 
his most anxious concern. Let him in the night-watch- 
es, or in any hour of retirement, ponder such words 
as these : — " Thou God seest me " ; " All things are 
naked and open to the eyes of Him with whom I have 
to do " ; u We must all appear before the judgment- 
seat of Christ, that every one may receive the things 
done in the body, according to that he hath done, 
whether it be good or bad." Let him unite with re- 
flections like these the thought of God's spotless holi- 
ness and absolute justice, the remembrance, moreover, 
of the solemn alternatives of a final judgment, and he 



16 



RELIGIOUS SOLICITUDE. 



cannot fail to experience some earnest solicitude; and, 
should he give utterance to his emotions, I doubt not 
they would be like those of the royal Psalmist : — 
u My flesh trembleth for fear of thee ; for if thou should- 
est mark iniquity, O Lord, who could stand ? " 

Or let us suppose the individual to be one of an 
anxious and distrustful mind, and in some hour of pecu- 
liar solicitude, — not unknown even to those whom the 
world numbers with its most prosperous, — when fears 
are in the way and the heart is heavy, words like these 
should by any hidden ministry arise to his thoughts : — 
" Cast thy burden upon the Lord and he will sustain 
thee " Let not your heart be troubled " ; " Though 
thou pass through the waters, I will be with thee " ; 
u Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him " ; — let 
some such passages as these, I say, be presented to 
his thoughts, and any one of them shall be so blest, 
as to awaken new confidence and hope, as to scatter 
all darkness and distrust, and become a fruitful and 
abiding source of a cheerful obedience. 

There are changes, also, in our lot, such as God is 
pleased continually to permit or appoint for the welfare 
of his children, the influence of which shall be to quick- 
en the religious sensibility and awaken their religious 
concern. Nor need we look to adversity alone for 
these healthful influences. For outward prosperity is 
not happiness, and even in its brightest glory, when 
most coveted by an unreflecting world, may leave the 
heart to wounds and griefs, to humiliation and want, 
which God alone can solace or supply. To the ten- 
der and conscientious spirit prosperity itself becomes a 
heavy care, to be reposed only on Him who gives it. 
It involves claims and expectations which it demands 



RELIGIOUS SOLICITUDE. 17 



wisdom to meet, and duties which without toil and 
sacrifice and self-denial we cannot perform. No, my 
brother, whom God has made prosperous ; I appeal to 
your experience whether prosperity in itself be happi- 
ness. It cannot save you from grief. Your wealth, 
though you heap up silver as the dust, cannot shut out 
sickness or bereavement from your dwelling, or anguish 
from your heart, — the anguish of blasted expectations, 
of humbled pride, of disappointed ambition, — the yet 
deeper anguish of conscious guilt. 

Nor is it all the kingdoms of this world or the glory 
of them, neither thrones nor sceptres nor they who hold 
them, that can deliver from the changes which a sov- 
ereign Arbiter ordains, and from which in their turns 
neither the highest nor the humblest are exempted. It 
is for this purpose He sends death into high places, and 
from "the very pinnacle of human society," from the 
princes and the nobles of the earth, makes them the most 
signal monuments of frailty whose condition and pros- 
pects combine all that the world counts glorious. It 
is for this purpose, and that men may be taught wis- 
dom, that He commissions his messengers of sickness, 
and weakens our strength in the way, or removes from 
us our friends, and leaves us to the bitterness of be- 
reavement ; or that He appoints adversity in yet anoth- 
er form, and takes away the riches in which we had 
trusted, that he may take from us also the earthly mind, 
which is death, and implant the spiritual mind, which 
is peace. Happy, my brethren, shall we be, if, either 
by the observation or experience of such changes, we 
are led, as God designs, to reflection. Happy, if, 
through any trials common to humanity which our 
Heavenly Father ordains, we are taught the uncertainty 
2* 



IS 



RELIGIOUS SOLICITUDE. 



of this world's prosperity, are persuaded to aspire to 
higher objects, and to inquire with earnest hearts, 
u Lord, what wilt thou have me to do ? " Still happier, 
if, knowing our Master's will, we shall do it. 

II. But while we should studiously cherish any good 
influences upon our hearts, which may be drawn either 
from the Divine bounty or chastisement, and be grateful 
to God if in any measures they have been instrumental 
to our spiritual growth, we are by no means justified 
in depending upon such influences, and yet less in wait- 
ing for such changes to produce them. Our charac- 
ter as Christians and all our preparation for eternity 
are wholly independent of the vicissitudes of outward 
condition. Whatever that condition may be, prosper- 
ous or adverse, we have immortal souls to provide for ; 
and it is not the part of wisdom, nor is it permitted to 
a rational faith, to suffer that provision to depend upon 
the joys or sorrows, the darker or the brighter aspects 
of our lot. As religion itself is unchangeable, and its 
demands ever the same, not varying with the progress 
of society or the vicissitudes of life, so there can be 
no possible changes in our lot that can in the slightest 
degree affect our obligations to comply w 7 ith its de- 
mands. u Ye are my friends," said Jesus, u if ye 
do whatsoever I command you." u And if thou wilt 
enter into life," he replied to the young lawyer, " keep 
the commandments." What he said to his disciples 
.at the beginning, he says now 7 to us. The same dis- 
positions and character, the same service and obedience, 
which were required of them are required of us. If 
they, his first followers, could be his friends and ob- 
tain everlasting life only by believing in Him and 



RELIGIOUS SOLICITUDE. 



19 



keeping his sayings, so neither can we. Here is the 
faith, — " Believe on the Lord Jesus " ; here is the 
duty, — " Keep the commandments " ; and what Paul 
taught to the Jewish converts to correct their false 
judgments and to teach them, that obedience is every 
thing, is true in the full extent of its meaning to us. 
u Circumcision is nothing, and uncircumcision is noth- 
ing, but the keeping of the commandments of God." 
"He is not a Jew, he is not a Christian, who is one 
outwardly ; but circumcision is of the heart, in the spir- 
it and not in the letter, whose praise is not of men but 
of God." And the Apostle teaches us, in his admi- 
rable summary of true religion, that it is "living sober- 
ly, righteously, and godly in this present world ; look- 
ing for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing 
of the great God, and our Saviour Jesus Christ." 

III. Here, then, is the answer to the great question 
of my text. Here, as in the broad light of heaven we 
are taught what the Lord our God requireth of us; 
what we must be and what we must do, if we would 
attain to everlasting life. The texts I have cited need 
no commentary of mine. They speak for themselves, 
and in terms which all can understand. We may point 
to them as summaries of Christian faith and duty. They 
explain other texts, that are obscure, while they require 
no explication for themselves. They are unerring 
guides, pointing as with the finger of God, and saying, 
"This is the way; walk ye in it." 

And of this class of texts it has been well remarked, 
that they are always to be understood in their plainest 
and most obvious sense, — in the sense in which they 
are first interpreted by the honest and unprejudiced 



20 



RELIGIOUS SOLICITUDE. 



mind, without evasion or qualification. When men 
set themselves to explain what is already clear, they are 
apt to darken counsel by words without knowledge ; 
and when they would bring of their learning or in- 
genuity to illustrate precepts already plain, there may 
be suspected some lurking inclination to release them- 
selves from duties which they cannot otherwise evade. 
Therefore, let these texts be taken in their most obvious 
sense. No favorite hypothesis that can be formed, 
no system of divinity, however skilfully contrived, no 
refinements of casuistry or philosophy, may be permitted 
here to obscure the truth, or to bring into question the 
obligation of an express command. And when the 
Master says, " Keep the commandments"; and when 
the Apostle says, " Believe on the Lord Jesus, and 
thou shalt be saved " ; and when the prophet who pre- 
dicted him declares, " He hath showed thee, O man, 
what is good, and what the Lord thy God require th of 
thee, — to do justice, to love mercy, and to walk hum- 
bly with thy God"; — there are distinctly set forth 
the conditions of salvation ; the way of life is opened 
to us, and the wayfaring man, though a fool, need not 
err therein. 

Will it be objected, that in thus placing the sub- 
stance of religion in obedience, we are advocating only 
an outward morality, with which the affections have no 
concern ? No, my brethren ; the foundations of Chris- 
tian virtue are broad and deep. That " godliness, 
which has the promise of the life that is and of the life 
that is to come," lies deep in the soul. The faith 
that saves works by love, and is fruitful of good works ; 
and that which does not reach the heart, and make us 
alive to God, which does not lead us to the mercy- 



RELIGIOUS SOLICITUDE. 



21 



seat, and kindle our devotion, which does not subdue 
our pride and selfishness, and keep us pure and hum- 
ble, does not deserve the name of religion. But, on 
the other hand, it must not be forgotten that there 
may be fervent affections without a corresponding life. 
There may be much profession of love to God, and 
of reliance on Christ and zeal for his truth, and the 
heart be not right in the sight of God. Still it may be 
written of us, as of 'the monarch of ancient times, - — 
u Thou art weighed in the balance, and art found 
wanting." 

True religion, that which the Master taught, and 
that for which we must strive, if we would attain to 
eternal life, is " first pure, then peaceable, gentle, and 
easy to be entreated, full of mercy and of good fruits, 
without partiality and without hypocrisy" ; grounded in 
a true love of God and faith in Christ, expressed in 
every form of filial service, - — in submission, gratitude, 
and trust, in holiness and in charity, even the charity that 
was in Jesus, who was " holy, harmless, undefiled, and 
went about doing good." This is the religion which 
Jesus taught, and whose voice we are called to obey. 
This is the religion whose power is to be seen, not in 
name, but in deed ; not in profession only, but in heart 
and in life ; not in warm affections, in convulsive trans- 
ports, nor in fervent resolutions that pass away, but in 
the subjection of the whole will of man to the will of 
God. And if there be within us that which makes us 
heartily to love God and to hate sin, which subdues 
our envy, our malice, our uncharitableness ; that makes 
us contented amidst straits, moderate in prosperity, and 
ready to distribute, pure in heart, and in all manner'of 
conversation ; " if such things be in us, and abound, 



22 



RELIGIOUS SOLICITUDE. 



they shall make us to be neither barren nor unfruitful 
in the knowledge of God, and so an entrance shall be 
ministered unto us abundantly into the everlasting king- 
dom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ." 



SERMON III 



BY SYLVESTER JEBD, 



WORTH OF THE SOUL. 

WHAT IS A MAN PROFITED, IF HE SHALL GAIN THE WHOLE WORLD, 
AND LOSE HIS OWN SOUL ? OR WHAT SHALL A MAN GIVE IN 
EXCHANGE FOR HIS SOUL ? — Matt. Xvi. 26. 

I propose to offer a few suggestions upon the mean- 
ing and the instruction of these singular words of our 
Saviour. 

It is common to estimate the worth of the soul by 
what may be called mathematical standards. Equiva- 
lents are found in a combination of figures. The ques- 
tion put by Christ is resolved into one of pure finance. 
It is tantamount to the algebraic inquiry, What is the 
value of x ? The soul is a certain bulk, and we must 
find another bulk of corresponding dimensions and weight. 
This answering quantity is composed of two elements, 
time and pain ; the value of the soul is thought to be 
equal to the time it shall endure and the pain it shall 
suffer. Or, briefly, the soul is as time and pain. Thus, 
in arriving at a solution of the question, the power of 
numbers is challenged ; we have ages multiplied into 
ages, quantities of woe carried to their highest cube, 



24 



WORTH OF THE SOUL. 



logarithmic signs of the greatest possible conceptions ; 
and when the imagination itself can go no farther, we 
are told that this is but the beginning, an infinitesimal 
preface of that which shall be. All the strong figura- 
tive expressions of Scripture, denoting intensity of suf- 
fering, and interpreted as threats of vindictive punish- 
ment, are thrown into the scale. By these and similar 
things is the value of the soul estimated. 

Popular and almost universal as is this method of 
calculation, it is one that I am not prepared to adopt ; 
nor does it seem to me to express at all the ideas of 
Christ. 

It is clear that Christ does not make the worth of 
the soul depend upon its living and suffering for ever. 
He intimates that the man who will not take up the 
cross and follow him, who denies him, loses his life or 
his soul. What is it, then, not to follow Christ, — to de- 
ny him ? It is to refuse to possess the spirit of Christ, 
to discard his teachings and disown his sovereignty. 
In other words, a man who lives a life of sin, and re- 
jects truth, virtue, and the Christian spirit, loses his soul. 
And the question which Christ puts is this : Suppose a 
man should gain the whole world, become ever so rich, 
and still be vicious, unprincipled, wicked, unchristlike, 
what would it profit him ? What would be given in ex- 
change for his soul, — for what he has lost? Can he buy 
virtue with dollars ? What good person would sell this 
wicked rich man his goodness ? — Reference here is un- 
doubtedly had to something else than the pains that may 
be inflicted upon one during an eternity in hell, — to 
something, on the other hand, which in its own nature is 
valuable. 

My first general observation is, that the worth of the 



WORTH OF THE SOUL. 



25 



soul is intrinsic and spiritual ; and is not to be sought 
by mere outward physical estimates. 

On the parable of the rich man in Luke, let me ob- 
serve that soul, in this and in the other cases of Matthew 
and Mark, is the same word in the original as that ren- 
dered life. " This night shall thy life be required of 
thee," is the literal reading. Christ, we are told, would 
admonish his disciples against covetousness ; and so 
he relates the parable, or states a supposititious case. 
The man would build new barns, and say to his soul, his 
life, " Take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry." This 
was evidently an avaricious man, who, having amassed a 
large property, was on the point of squandering it in sen- 
sual gratifications. But the voice comes that he is to 
die that night. " Then whose will those things be 
which thou hast provided ? " You have devoted all your 
days, the vigor of youth and the wisdom of manhood, to 
collecting the means of vicious indulgence. You must 
die to-night ! What good will they do you ? You may 
be rich in lands, you are poor in virtue ; and now you 
are about to die. So, says Christ, is every one that 
layeth up treasure for himself ; that consults his own 
corrupt and selfish aims alone, and is not rich toward 
God ; is possessed of nothing valuable in the sight of 
God ; has no virtue, no love, no piety, no moral excel- 
lence. Fool, indeed, he is. In this account is sus- 
tained the observation I make, that the worth of the 
soul, according to Christ, is something intrinsic and 
spiritual. Our Saviour does not lift the veil of eternity ; 
he does not tell us what transpires beyond the grave ; 
but in view of what is exhibited here on the earth, in 
one's own lifetime, he permits this man to be called a 
fool, an unwise, infatuated person. 

3 



26 



WORTH OF THE SOUL. 



Thus far, we learn, in the estimation of Christ, a man 
who forewent the Christian spirit, who abused his pow- 
ers and perverted the means of existence, lost his soul. 

We are now introduced to a field of important obser- 
vation. My first remark is, that the soul is valuable for 
what it is, and not for the sufferings that may be impos- 
ed upon it. A man may be subject to a chronic dis- 
ease, and undergo a deal of pain all his life ; still, if he 
possesses patience, serenity, resignation, he does not 
lose his soul ; its value is unimpaired. Pain, in itself 
considered, even if it should endure through eternity, ly- 
ing upon us in mountain-like accretions, could not de- 
stroy the soul or diminish its worth. Indeed, if there 
be any thing that demonstrates the excellency and power 
of the soul, it is, what we so often see, the ease with 
which it rises above external ill, and the vigor whereby 
it outshines the darkest circumstances. 

In the second place, I observe that the value of the 
soul is as its capacity ; and whatever indicates the ca- 
pacity of the soul may be taken as an exponent of its 
value. 

To understand, then, the value of the soul, we are 
not obliged to penetrate the flight of ages, and take 
the dimensions of hell, or even count the glories of 
heaven ; we shall understand something of the subject by 
looking at what is about us, and attending to the know T n 
phenomena of human life. All virtue, all love, all truth, 
all self-sacrifice, all genius, all heroism, all greatness, 
exemplify the capacity and teach the worth of the soul. 
The pyramids of Egypt, the temples of Greece, the 
ruins of Yucatan, instance the capacity and the value of 
the soul. The fabrics of government and the exten- 
sion of empire are monuments of the same fact. All 



WORTH OF THE SOUL. 



27 



triumphs of mind over matter, all subordination of nature 
to art, all discoveries pushed into the realm of the un- 
known, all forth-puttings of vast energy of will or charac- 
ter, show the worth of the soul. What astronomy has 
done, in bringing down the big heavens into our school- 
rooms, mapping out the stars, throwing wheel-bands over 
the orbits of comets, and inserting metronomes in the 
mechanism of creation, what geology has done, in dis- 
interring the history of the earth from the sepulchre of 
ages, teach the same fact. Raphael, with his pallet, 
Canova, with his chisel, Milton, with his pen, illustrate 
the capacity of the soul. Bonaparte, from whose in- 
tellect leaped the live thunderbolts of war, and whose 
hand shook the nations as in a dice-box, is an instance in 
point, so far as mere strength and resources are con- 
cerned. The covering of the sea with ships, of the 
wilderness with habitable towns, the elaboration of the co- 
coon into gobelin tapestries, of clay into Etruscan vases, 
the conversion of trees into coaches, of rocks into pala- 
ces, are similar denotements. Christianity itself, so far 
as its character or its extension depends upon human 
agencies, is a proof of the capacity of the human 
soul. Its propagation, the application of its princi- 
ples, the realization of its aims, the multiplication of its 
disciples, its churches, its cathedrals, are of the same 
sort. The great attempt to abolish slavery and the 
slave-trade, originating with Clarkson, — that to extin- 
guish war, begun by Worcester, — the later incursions in- 
to the empire of drunkenness, — all testify to the same 
truth. 

These things, on what might be called a large historic 
scale, instruct us in the worth of the soul. 

We are taught the same lesson in a more individual 



28 



WORTH OF THE SOUL. 



way, and particularly by Christ. I wish you to ob- 
serve what he says, and the connection in which he says 
it: — u Whosoever will be my disciple, let him deny 
himself. He who loses his life in my cause shall save 
it ; whoso saves it, by rejecting me, shall lose it. And 
what profits it, if you should even gain the whole world 
and lose your life or soul ? " Then he adds, u Whoso- 
ever shall be ashamed of me, and of my words, in this 
adulterous and sinful generation, of him will the Son of 
Man be ashamed, when he comes in his kingdom." 

This losing the soul has reference, then, to denying 
Christ. And what was it to deny Christ ? Or, in oth- 
er words, saving the soul, or the worth of the soul, has 
a reference to Christ. How is that seen ? Who w T as 
Christ ? How is the value of the soul seen in this re- 
lation ? 

I observe that in Christ himself was especially exem- 
plified the worth of the soul. He founded an empire of 
love in the world, that overshadows, and shall outlive, all 
empires. From a simple mechanic he rose to be the 
greatest of monarchs. He lived near the heart of God, 
and became an emanation of the Divine love ; with all 
singleness of vision he saw into the truths of God, and 
became a revealer of the Divine light. There was no 
guile in his mouth; he uttered himself frankly, undisguis- 
edly, incorruptly, without a sense of fear or a regard to 
favor. Plainly dressed in an unseamed coat, w r hich his 
mother had probably woven for him, without a king's sig- 
net, or a priest's cope, he gained access to the houses of 
the great, he was welcomed in the cottages of the poor ; 
multitudes thronged him wherever he went, his course 
was like a triumphal procession, and the little children 
spread branches of palm under his feet when he entered 



WORTH OF THE SOUL. 



29 



Jerusalem. Yet he had his trials, sharp and bitter ; but 
the Devil (representing therein the lust of avarice and 
ambition) he conquered ; the chief priests and elders who 
compassed his death he forgave. He had many a cross 
of opposition, desertion, and infirmity to bear ; he bore 
them manfully and well. His faith was inextinguisha- 
ble, his confidence profound ; he knew what was in man, 
and loved all men as brothers ; he dined with publicans 
and sinners ; he spake gently to the woman charged with 
adultery ; his charity embraced the heretical Samaritans ; 
he noticed the obscure, he sought out the lonely ; he fed 
the hungry ; he cured the diseased ; he gave rest to the 
weary ; he was like a cloud floating down from the blue 
upper heavens, charged with mercy and sweetness for a 
sin-parched world. In all this we see the worth, the 
greatness, of the soul. Christ had a soul, as we all have; 
and these are some of its developments and fruits. We 
are wont to look upon Christ as a sort of trajectile, cast 
by Almighty force from Bethlehem to Calvary ; as a 
kind of miraculous machine working its way through Ju- 
dea. No, he was made perfect through sufferings ; he 
Was clothed in flesh and blood ; he had a moral soul as 
much as we have ; he had a soul to save or to lose, as 
well as his disciples. He saved his own soul. 

And I beg you to dwell on one point an instant. Our 
Saviour described a man who made wealth his god. 
Compare this with an event in his own experience. He, 
in some part of his life, had been tempted by avarice. 
The Devil, we read, took him up into a high mountain, 
and promised him all the kingdoms of the earth and the 
glory of them if he would worship him ; that is, if he 
would do some mean act, condescend to some base pas- 
sion. Now if Christ had yielded at that moment, he 
3* 



30 



WORTH OF THE SOUL. 



would have lost his soul, as certainly as any human be- 
ing. He struggled against the suggestion, he repelled 
his malign adviser. This rencounter, this trial, seems to 
have made a deep impression on our Saviour's mind ; and 
he more than once takes advantage of the circumstance 
to convey useful instruction. He knew that every child 
of Adam would be subject to the same temptation, and 
he seeks to warn them against the danger. So he tells 
the story of the rich man ; so he says, " You must deny 
yourselves and follow me, do as I have done, resist the 
temptation to avarice, as I did ; if you do not, you cannot 
be my disciple. What if you should get the whole world, 
what good will it do you, if you thereby impair your 
moral character, sink your integrity, and become abject 
and degraded ? What will you give in exchange for 
such a loss ? If I had yielded, what would be my 
situation now ? " I say this matter has a peculiar in- 
terest, connected as it was with Christ's own experience. 

So the text, the context, the related passages, and 
the whole subject of the worth of the soul, are intimate- 
ly connected with Christ ; he himself gives a personal % 
turn to the Jopic. In following him, in yielding to him, 
we realize the worth of the soul ; we save the soul. In 
refusing to follow him, in denying him, we depreciate, 
we lose, the soul. We put ourselves in such a condi- 
tion as that he himself will be ashamed of us. Observe, 
my friends, the application of this course of remark. 
When we narrow down the vast spiritual powers which 
God has given us to dollars and cents, when we seek ' 
our supreme happiness in party distinctions or official 
emoluments, we lose our souls. When we suffer our 
faith in God or man to become straitened and distant, 
we lose our souls. When we refuse to follow Christ in 



WORTH OF THE SOUL. 



31 



respect of loving all men, we lose our souls. When 
we have guile in our mouth, when we grow pharisai- 
cal, self-righteous, and supercilious, when in the midst 
of an adulterous and sinful generation we are ashamed 
to espouse the side of Christ, we lose our souls. When 
we have no cup of water for the thirsty, no com- 
passion for the needy, no sympathy for the erring, no 
light for the blind, we lose our souls. 

There are those who seem to suppose that this rejec- 
tion of Christ, and consequent loss of the soul, depend 
upon not going forward to be prayed for, not being con- 
spicuous in the use of a cant phraseology, not being 
willing to perform some sectarian rite. Nothing can be 
more fanciful or more delusive than such an idea. The 
rejection of Christ is a practical rejection ; the loss of 
the soul is a real injury the soul itself sustains. You re- 
ject Christ when you do not do as he did, feel as he felt, 
be as he was ; when you do not obey his words, fulfil 
his precepts, imbibe his spirit, carry out his purpose. 

Intercourse with Christ imparts, if I may so say, a 
divine courtesy to the manners ; communion with him 
inspires us with the spirit of the upper world ; by con- 
versation with him we acquire the language that angels 
use ; by following him we complete our triumph over 
evil, and gather the brightest laurels of spiritual victory. 

I have shown you how, on a large historic scale, the 
worth of the soul was manifested. I said the same 
thing was apparent on an individual scale ; I have point- 
ed to Christ as the first instance, and said that by 
imitation and pursuit of him we all show forth the riches, 
the worth, of the soul. 

My next general remark is, that the worth of the soul 
is proportioned to its virtues, and its loss to its vices. 



32 



WORTH OF THE SOUL. 



The historic scale to which I referred exhibits the 
soul only as some high observatory presents to the eye 
the face of the earth. You see hills lying side by side, 
like ridges in a new-ploughed field, and mountains 
embosomed in mountains, and some Himalaya over- 
capping the whole. The valleys, the brooks, the sunny 
slopes, are hidden. So history only gives us the tops 
of the highest things ; and any historic view of the souPs 
worth is exceedingly imperfect. The vales, the lower 
places of human existence, which the sun every day 
visits and God loves to look upon, history does not 
open to us. But, in fact, near the palace is a cottage ; 
by the side of the great king lives a little peasant ; ad- 
joining the celebrated battle-field is an humble, quiet 
village ; Raphael's immortal pictures are taken from the 
face of a gentle girl, whose name scarcely survives ; while 
Milton composed the Paradise Lost, many a paradise 
was regained in the holy family circle, and in the acqui- 
sitions of meek spirits ; while a hundred thousand men 
were twenty years hauling stone for the Egyptian pyra- 
mid, as a sepulchre for a dead king, winds and woods, 
birds and flowers, were busy converting into an edifice 
which the Almighty himself should inhabit, the heart of 
some nameless man by the side of some nameless brook. 
There is a beautiful painting by Aldus of a poor woman, 
who, having spun past midnight to support a bed-rid 
mother, has fallen asleep through fatigue, and angels are 
represented finishing her work. The obscure woman 
who anointed Jesus's feet most unconsciously did an act 
which the Divine Saviour himself has published to the 
praise of all ages. And where, in the Gospel adjudica- 
tion, many were rewarded for things they wist not what, 
they were told it was because they had given cups of 



WORTH OF THE SOUL. 



33 



water to the thirsty, and in unremembered ways relieved 
the distressed. Down in the by-places of life, in untrav- 
elled regions, in unstoried actions, in unbestarred lowli- 
ness, the soul has been rich toward God, — its true worth 
has been displayed, its salvation made certain. All dia- 
bolical temptation has been repelled ; all insidious, soul- 
degrading thought been extinguished ; the sweetest char- 
ities have been cultivated, a resistless, far-reaching love 
exercised, and a pure spirituality attained. Many a 
widow has cast in her mite ; her person was unrecog- 
nized, her name unknown, her destiny unascertained ; but 
Christ blessed her as she passed along. The tawny 
Indian, who in his arms bore one of our Pilgrim fore- 
fathers, that had lost his way, across a river, took him 
to his wigwam, fed him with beans and maize, gave 
him a wolf's skin to sleep on, and in the morning con- 
ducted him to his home, — that Indian, I say, was killed ; 
but I believe he went to heaven. 

But, on the other hand, the denial of Christ also goes 
on ; a profitless speculation is had in evil ; men barter 
away that which they can never recover ; — they lose 
their souls. 

The intemperate man loses his soul. He annihilates 
his self-consciousness and self-command ; he quenches 
conscience and reason ; he parts, by degrees, with all 
the finer attributes of our nature ; he repels the heart * 
that is devoted to him, he wastes affections that are lav- 
ished upon him. The voice of God he does not hear, 
and the still, small voice of wife or child, in stupid vio- 
lence, he assails. Disease writes her blazonry on his 
face, and perdition catches his soul. 

The avaricious man Joses his soul. One such, even 
for twenty pieces of silver, betrayed the Lord and Saviour 



34 



WORTH OF THE SOUL. 



of the world. It was such a one, also, that Christ de- 
scribed in the passage I have read. This man, it would 
appear, abandoning the higher prerogatives of his nature, 
despising the proper attainments of a rational and immor- 
tal being, hardening himself to all philanthropic sympa- 
thies, thought only of his worldly estate, and gave him- 
self up to monetary accumulations. The hungry might 
starve for him ; the good of society he cared not for ; 
all duties to God or man or himself he left undone. He 
is presented to us as the type of one who concentrates 
all thought, feeling, means, opportunities, times, in an 
inordinate selfishness. On that empty shell of humanity 
rings the hand of death. " This night is thy soul re- 
quired of thee," is the strange, dreadful voice he hears. 

The hypocrite loses his soul. " Woe unto you, 
scribes, Pharisees, hypocrites ! " One cannot long 
maintain a false position without becoming in his own 
heart radically false. You practise pretence and sub- 
terfuge, and your own character loses its best, its divine 
instincts. Hypocrisy leads, straightway, to the basest 
duplicity and the most ruinous hollow-heartedness. A 
hypocritical politician not more certainly exposes him- 
self to the derision of mankind, than to the disintegra- 
tion and waste of personal, conscious rectitude. Those 
who live to seem soon only seem to be ; every vestige 
of substantiality disappears ; there remain but the shadow 
and semblance of a man. The cloak we put on, like 
the robe of Hercules, corrodes and consumes us. The 
grosser kinds of hypocrisy, in this day of civilization, are 
somewhat discarded. ' Our hypocrisy is very refined, 
and very plausible, and interlarded with a good deal of 
truth and apparent sincerity ; so much the worse for 
that ; the nearer poison comes to the heart and the 



WORTH OF THE SOUL. 



35 



springs of action, the greater is our danger. We de- 
ceive ourselves by our pretexts, till we know not what 
we are ; like the man who committed perjury so often, 
he knew not when he spoke the truth. Goodness itself 
becomes hypocritical, and saints broaden the phylacte- 
ries of their sainthood. Such a course is onward to ruin. 
The true inner life of piety, by such fair seeming, is fast 
turning into a whited sepulchre. We act diplomati- 
cally, from an ambassador at a foreign court down to a 
shop-boy. Death is in all such business, — death to 
truth, death to happiness, death to our prosperity, death 
to principle, death to the soul. 

There is no single vice which our Saviour so espe- 
cially reprobated as that of hypocrisy, none which 
seemed so effectually to counteract all the purposes of 
his mission, and none from which his own principles 
were more abhorrent, or to which his whole conduct 
formed so vivid an exception. 

The bigot loses his soul. The bigot has no strong 
appetite to feed, like the drunkard ; he has no absorbing- 
aim of life, like the miser ; he lacks even the supple 
smoothness of the hypocrite ; — his position is one of 
hatred to all that is beautiful, free, joyous, in the world. 
Like death, he lays an icy hand on the flowing pulse 
and the active frame of our life. He repels all ap- 
proach to his sympathies, to his magnanimity, to his 
impulses. The love of Christ which embraces all, en- 
courages all, blesses all, he never felt. He prays, but 
he has no exaltation of spirit ; he communes, but he has 
no fellowship. If he had lived earlier, he would have 
pronounced sentence of death on Christ ; now that he 
lives later, he makes Christ the punitive judge of others. 
The fruits of the spirit, love, joy, peace, gentleness, 



36 



WORTH OF THE SOUL. 



goodness, long-suffering, he has none ; but what passes 
for a holy indignation, a species of sanctified malice. 
He voluntarily cuts himself off from Christ, and lies a 
dead branch ; the sap and juices of his soul are dried 
up. He does not he, nor steal, nor swear, but he has 
erected stakes, excavated dungeons, established Inquisi- 
tions, reared pillories, built jails, and recommended the 
gallows. He is a bronzed statue in the midst of living 
men. 

I describe characters, not persons, and tendencies 
rather than finished results. No man, it is said, is a 
hero to his. servant ; and we have often said, no man is 
all a villain. What germs of goodness may slumber in 
those T have described, what indestructible element of 
spirituality Omniscience can detect, it is not for me to 
say. But such tendencies are in the highway to final 
ruin. Such men are the ones who deny Christ ; they 
are the ones who are ashamed of him, and are most 
unlike him. Whatever treasures they may lay up for 
themselves, they are not rich toward God. They are 
poor in his sight. Their noblest powers are abused. 
The regeneration of their natures is prevented. Let 
them carry their gold, their fair-seeming, their loud pro- 
fessions, to heaven's gate ; will such things be received 
there ? What have they to offer in exchange for a 
whole life's perversion, this long waste of talents, and 
abuse of privilege ? But Christ, in the text, has not 
lifted the veil of the other world ; " This night shall thy 
soul be required of thee," is all he says. It was enough 
for him to see the process of destruction go on here. 
And it would be enough for us, my friends, if we nad 
the least sensibility to goodness, the least real dread of 
sin. 



WORTH OF THE SOUL. 



37 



Finally, there is a sense in which it might be affirmed 
we go through hell to hell ; and, as some one has said, 
we may have a little heaven to go to heaven in. We 
day by day rise to heaven, sink in hell. The pit of 
perdition and the gates of paradise open from every 
dwelling. The cup of life or death we sip at every 
meal. All inward rejection of Christ is vice, and vice 
is self-destructive ; all inward adherence to Christ is 
virtue, and virtue is self-edifying. 

Strive, then, my hearers, to enter in at the strait 
gate. To many he will say, I know you not whence 
ye are. There are last that shall be first, and there are 
first which shall be last. Many that you call the best 
are in reality the worst, and there are among the worst 
the best. Depart from me, all ye workers of iniquity. 
There shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth, yea, much 
sorrow, when those who have flattered themselves they 
were the especial favorites of Heaven are thrust out. 
Strive, then, one and all, for that godly sincerity, that 
purity of heart, that Christlikeness of spirit, that angelic 
virtue, which alone is acceptable before God, which 
alone renders immortality desirable, and which is the 
only basis of a glorious hope beyond the grave. 



4 



SERMON IV. 



BY FREDERIC D. HITXTIXGTON. 



THE SIMPLICITY OF CHRISTIAN DUTY. 

FOR ALL THE LAW IS FULFILLED IN ONE WORD. — Gal. V. 14 

The minds of some persons are perplexed by an 
impression, that the duty of a Christian is something 
complicated. They labor under the notion, that Chris- 
tian truth is hard to be understood ; that it is a lesson 
difficult to be learned. The Christian's path, they think, 
is an intricate, tortuous path, beset at all points by tan- 
gled questions, which can be settled only by laborious 
study, by the nice and subtile distinctions of the casuist, 
or be cleared up by some almost supernatural illumina- 
tion, poured in upon the mind in a moment of grace. 

This is a mistake. It is an injurious misconception 
of the genuine character of Christian duty and truth, 
which, in reality, are very simple and very plain. 

Christ appealed to the common understanding. He 
addressed his instructions to the simplest class of minds, 

— to uneducated fishermen and unsophisticated women. 
He drew his illustrations from the most familiar objects, 

— the grain waving, ripe for the harvest, on the hill-side 
before him, the birds wheeling in the air over his bead, 



THE SIMPLICITY OF CHRISTIAN DUTY. 39 



the lilies blossoming in beauty at his feet. u The com- 
mon people heard him gladly." He taught, clearly 
enough, that honest good-sense and a pure or sincere 
heart were the only qualifications absolutely essential 
to a right apprehension of his message. He preached 
his Gospel to the poor ; instilled his heavenly doctrine 
into the untutored hearts of the peasantry of his people. 
And he knew, beyond question, to whom his words 
v/ere adapted, and who were most likely to accept and 
welcome them. 

Let me not be understood as implying that there are 
not difficulties in maintaining a Christian life. Of this 
there are a multitude of difficulties in the way. The 
self-denial it costs to relinquish earthly gratification, 
whenever it comes in conflict with righteousness, and to 
take up the cross of daily effort, — this is one, and per- 
haps the mightiest, obstacle. The moral fortitude it 
requires to lay down personal pleasure, and often to 
trample it under foot, and to enthrone high principle 
as the sovereign of all the motions of the soul, is an at- 
tainment not to be won by easy struggles. The resolve 
to. make Christ the Master and God's law the rule of 
life, — to keep that resolve and hold it fast, that it shall 
not fall nor even waver, — demands a vigilance that 
tasks every energy of the soul. But these are difficulties, 
observe, in doing the work, not in understanding what 
that work is. Many moral sacrifices are necessary for 
the actual keeping of the commandments, and reaching 
the lofty aim of Christian uprightness. Let no man 
deceive himself with the flattering imagination that this 
is an easy thing. . For if he does, he will be tempt- 
ed to give it up sometime in despair. In being a 
Christian, there are needed courage, toil, a persisting 



40 



THE SIMPLICITY OF CHRISTIAN DUTY. 



patience, an untiring perseverance. But in knowing 
what it is to be a Christian, and how to begin, all we 
need is the simplest faculty of an ordinary intelligence 
and a teachable spirit. What is simple to be under- 
stood is not always easy to be done. The hindrances 
that hold us back from being true disciples are moral, 
not intellectual. They lie in men's torpid will, not in 
the natural deficiencies of their minds. It is not that 
the doctrine is incomprehensible, but that we love self 
and the world too well. The law of God is plain to 
the understanding ; it is u all fulfilled in one word." 
But it is the law in our members, warring against it, that 
brings us into captivity. We know the right, and yet 
the wrong pursue. 

Christian duty is a very simple thing, — of itself, 
viewed apart from our perversions and misty statements 
of it, — very simple and very plain. It is " all fulfilled 
in one word." I proceed to explain more fully my 
meaning in this declaration. 

Suppose an individual — any one of us — is sincere- 
ly desiring to become a Christian man ; to establish 
a Christian character. He is in earnest about it, and 
is only seeking the best way. How shall he proceed ? 
Shall he begin on the outside of his character ? Shall he 
pay his first and chief regard to his external deportment ? 
Shall he devote his care to the little proprieties and mi- 
nute details that appear on the surface of his life ? Shall 
his great anxiety be to make his conduct appear decently 
in the eyes of his fellow-men, — a well-arranged piece 
of artificial workmanship, an elaborately-wrought mech- 
anism ? Or shall he look round on others, and copy 
various traits of different persons, taking one item from 
this individual, and another from that, thus patching up 



THE SIMPLICITY OF CHRISTIAN DUTY. 41 

a character, wholly by servile imitation, out of hetero- 
geneous and ill-assorted materials •? If he does, he will 
fail. He may well grow discouraged in that hopeless 
undertaking. Character is not built up by that sort of 
process. It is contrary to all sound philosophy, —to 
the very constitution of human nature. That would 
prove, indeed, a perplexing, complicated labor. If this 
were the method of being good, most of us will be 
obliged to abandon the idea of being good at all. We 
must throw up the attempt in disgust. 

But this is not the method ; and we may be thankful 
it is not. Christian character is not made up of sepa- 
rate, distinct parts, thrown together and fitted in, like 
the bricks and timbers of our dwellings, or the bars and 
screws of an engine. It is an organic and living whole, 
developed out of one principle of indwelling life, grow- 
ing out of that, just like the tree, the, plant, or the hu- 
man body, only as it is infinitely superior to them, in 
that it possesses consciousness and immortality. A 
man's character is one vital whole ; it possesses unity ; 
it is subject to a law of growth ; and each part is inti- 
mately related to every other. It is not put together, 
like mosaic, by an assemblage of disconnected pieces, 
till it assumes some prescribed shape and color. But 
it is all unfolded out of an inward secret life, sending 
its power and sustenance into every portion, just as the 
swelling life of the tree pushes its way and communi- 
cates its vitality to every branch and leaf that shoots 
from the trunk. Character grows, not as the pile of 
sand grows, by the addition of particle to particle 
through some foreign hand ; but as the little seed, by 
the quickening of a germ latent within itself, sends up 
the strong fibre, the blade, the ear, the full corn in the 
4 * 



42 



THE SIMPLICITY OF CHRISTIAN DUTY. 



ear. The aphorism, that moral improvement mostly 
comes, not in the way of acquisition, but of develop- 
ment, seems to indicate the only tolerably philosophical 
theory of man's spiritual growth. 

We are ready now to see how it is that to become a 
Christian or a good man, in other words, to form a 
Christian character, is so simple a thing, and in fact but 
one thing. It is but to gain this one animating prin- 
ciple of the soul, a right purpose. It is to take into 
the mind this one all-governing and abiding resolve, 
to honor God and love men ; to take this up, — this 
resolve, this purpose, — up into the highest place 
among the desires and determinations of the heart. It 
may be done almost by a single impulse of your will. 
Not the whole work, but the great burden of it, may 
be done in an instant. In solemn meditation, in some 
of the better moments of the soul's experience, that 
great and holy resolution may enter into the heart ; 
the door is opened and it enters in, to dwell there, to 
take up its abode, to cast out evil, to conquer tempta- 
tion, to reign over the affections, and gradually to ele- 
vate and purify and perfect the entire life. Begin with 
that, — the adoption of the right purpose, the spiritual 
aim, — and you begin at the right point for a successful 
and noble career. Accomplish that, and you accom- 
plish the hardest achievement, surmount the most dan- 
gerous pass, win the most decisive battle, of the whole 
Christian journey. Once plant deeply and firmly in 
your soul the one great principle of Christianity, which 
is love, — love to God and to man, — and you provide 
yourself with an inward spring and fountain of life, that 
will be sufficient for you for ever after. As Jesus prom- 
ised the woman of Samaria, " You shall never thirst 
again." All the law is fulfilled in that cc one word." 



THE SIMPLICITY OF CHRISTIAN DUTY. 43 



So a distinguished English writer on reforms, who 
penetrates with remarkable insight into the wrongs, 
abuses, and sins of society, and is certainly engaged with 
singular earnestness in studying the means of removing 
them, exclaims, — £ Tf you would extinguish injustice ; 
if you would be ready to allow men their rights ; if you 
would relieve the poor and instruct the ignorant and eman- 
cipate slaves and abolish all social evils, — first of all, 
get a soul ! ' That, he would say, is the prime requi- 
site, the main thing to be done ; and when that is done, 
other things will be done. First of all, get a soul, a 
generous, feeling, sympathizing, Christian soul into your 
bosom, and then you need not fear but you will be 
prompt enough to every humane and benevolent work. 
It will be so of course ; you cannot help it then. 
This I understand to be the same doctrine I am urging. 
Strike at the foundation. Go within, to the centre of 
your being, to the great principles of your life. Make 
them right ; work a change there ; put passion down 
and set religion up ; take righteousness for your portion ; 
take duty for your law ; fall once in love with goodness, 
— holy, gentle, brave, u sweet-tempered goodness," — 
though she brings you only peace for her dowry ; be 
wedded in your heart to virtue ; and then the great dan- 
ger is over, and the way of salvation is open before you. 
Settle the grand principles of the Gospel under your 
springs of action, and all particular duties, the specific 
details of daily conduct, will take their right place, will 
have a right character, and you will not be obliged to 
perplex yourself with ever-recurring questions and alter- 
cations with conscience about them. Your conduct will 
be excellent in detail, because it is excellent in its mo- 
tive ; blameless in all the branches of duty, because it is 



44 THE SIMPLICITY OF CHRISTIAN DUTY. 



sound at the root. The various relations you sustain 
will be. true, because you have right relations with truth 
itself. Imbue yourself with the Christian spirit, and it 
will become most natural, most easy, to do the things 
that are Christian, — that are honest and kind, just and 
pure, lovely and of good report. You will do them of 
course, because it will then be the free inspiration of 
your moral nature to do them. 

' 1 It must follow, as the night the day, 
Thou canst not then be false to any man." 

It is thus I would endeavour to simplify the whole 
circle of requirements laid upon us by Christ and his 
Gospel. If you would be like Jesus, catch his heav- 
enly-mindedness, and that will make you like him. If 
you would imitate his actions, partake of his spirit, and 
then you will be impelled to imitate them. In this sense, 
in all the virtues, in cultivating whatever excellence con- 
tributes to the very perfection of character, there is but 
one thing to be learned ; learning that, you learn every 
thing. There is, in this sense, but one act to be 
performed, — the renewal of your mind ; for, perform- 
ing that one, you put yourself in a posture to do every 
other. The whole law is fulfilled in one word. It is 
a significant narrative of the Saviour, how Martha missed 
her consolation, and marred the peace and harmony 
of her being, by being careful and troubled about many 
things ; and he revealed the whole mystery of her trust- 
ful sister's satisfaction and repose, when he said of her, 
" But one thing is needful, and Mary hath chosen that 
good part." 

We may see an illustration of this simplicity in the 
operations of the world of nature. Her laws are as 



THE SIMPLICITY OF CHRISTIAN DUTY. 



45 



simple, as her results are marvellous and beautiful. 
Look at the stupendous change that is wrought out 
every year in a few spring days. Out of the brown 
and barren surface of the earth, desolated by frost and 
winter, and from the naked boughs, springs forth into 
a bright resurrection a luxuriant mass of rejoicing life, 
in foliage and vegetation. In ten thousand forms, in 
a variety that is endless, in blending yet multiplied 
colors, filling the air with delicious fragrance, it spreads 
itself over hill-side and valley and mountain-top, and 
crowds our pathways with beauty. Yet the whole 
majestic and mysterious transformation has been pro- 
duced by the simple and silent action of those few agen- 
cies, the soil, the sunshine, and the atmosphere, with 
the simple elements that compose them. The planets 
move, the globe revolves, in obedience to the simplest 
laws. As has been said, " The uninstructed man, look- 
ing around him on the universe and seeing a wonderful 
variety of appearances, is inclined to imagine there are 
numberless laws and substances essentially different, 
little knowing from how few of either the profusion of 
beauty that is in the world is formed. The creative 
energy of nature, dealing with few substances, breaks 
out into every form and color of loveliness. Here we 
have the dainty flower, which may be compared to the 
graceful kindnesses passing among equals; there,- the 
rich cornfields, like the substantial benefits which the 
wise employer confers around him ; here, again, the far- 
spreading oak, which, with its welcome depth of shade, 
may remind us of the duties of protection and favor, due 
from the great to the bumble ; and there, the marriage 
of the vine to the elm, a similitude for social and domes- 
tic affection, If our sympathies were duly enlightened 



46 



THE SIMPLICITY OF CHRISTIAN DUTY. 



and enlarged, we should find that we did not need one 
doctrine for our conduct to friends, another for our con- 
duct to dependents, and another for our conduct to 
neighbours. One spirit would suffice to guide us rightly 
in all these relations. No new discovery, no separate 
teaching, is needed, for each branch of this divine knowl- 
edge." * The spirit of love, dwelling richly in the 
heart, will comprehend all our duties to our fellow-men. 
c< For all the law is fulfilled in one word, even in this, 
Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." 

There is a practical difficulty that is encountered by 
many persons in their efforts to lead a religious life. 
Their endeavours do not tell ; do not secure that prog- 
ress and yield that satisfaction that were sought for. 
Such persons try, it may be, to amend one failing, or to 
improve one quality, or to change one bad habit, — - one 
at a time, without effecting a thorough and radical reno- 
vation of the heart itself. Finding it a slow process, 
they are disheartened. Now I do not mean to question 
that a change of character must be, to some extent, a 
slow process, at any rate ; but I do mean to affirm that 
this noble work will be largely facilitated by adopting 
into the soul a comprehensive principle of duty and an 
inward spirit of obedience, — a deep love of goodness, 
a new motive, — rather than by striving to control one 
particular habit at a time, taking that alone, looking no 
farther, but leaving the rest as bad as before. It would 
take an army a long time to carry the strongholds of the 
enemy, if they were to exhaust their forces in cutting 
off, one by one, the stragglers from that enemy's camp, 
instead of making a united assault on some central posi- 



* Claims of Labor. 



THE SIMPLICITY OF CHRISTIAN DUTY. 47 

tion. It was a maxim in the tactics of Napoleon, — that 
wonder of the last generation in physical prowess, turn- 
ing all Europe pale w^ith terror, — always to bring the 
combined weight of his battalions to bear on a central 
and single point ; carrying that, the path of victory 
was open to him, through all tributaries, outposts, and 
reserves, and he was sure of the field. That was a 
bloody and brutal application of it ; but the maxim itself 
is one of undoubted sagacity, and on the better theatre 
of our moral conflicts, our long battle with sin for the 
sake of the reward set before us in the peace of heaven 
and the approval of conscience, we may adopt its wis- 
dom. You may toil and toil, seeking to amend the 
erring propensities of your heart, and may wonder that 
you do not meet better success ; while, probably, the 
secret cause of your failure is, that you have not struck 
deeply enough into the very centre of your affections. 
You may not, for example, have taken to- yourself that 
spiritual faith in God, in his forgiveness and help, which 
leads to prayer ; and without prayer you cannot reason- 
ably expect that any efforts at reformation will be suc- 
cessful. There is one essential moving force which you 
have not touched. 

So in mechanical contrivances. There are some 
most useful and powerful machines, perfect in all their 
parts ; yet you cannot put them into operation, cannot 
set them going, till you touch one particular spring or 
lever, hidden among the rest of the workmanship. Spend 
all your strength on the other portions, strain every 
nerve, and you cannot so much as start one ponderous 
wheel. But press that one main-spring, draw one bolt, 
and the whole starts into vigorous and orderly motion ; 
perhaps transports tons of merchandise, or weaves costly 



48 THE SIMPLICITY OF CHRISTIAN DUTY. 



fabrics. That main-spring is like the motive which im- 
pels all Christian action. The chemist in his labora- 
tory, wishing to produce a given chemical result, adds 
one substance after . another in his composition; but all 
his labor and his materials are only wasted for his pur- 
pose, till at last he throws in one particular element, 
which, by its peculiar affinities, changes the whole mass 
and brings about the success of his experiment. That 
one decisive element, determining the nature of the 
compound, is like the renewing principle in the charac- 
ter, spreading itself through the mass, and transforming 
the whole. The afflicted, restless under the pang of 
some fresh bereavement, feel their whole inward frame 
to be tossed in tumult and confusion, till trust, meek 
trust in the Heavenly Father, comes and simplifies 
their experience, explaining all the contradictions of 
their sorrow, and healing their hearts. The worldly- 
minded, the sensual, the selfish, are full of confusion, 
till one great principle of self-renunciation reduces the 
discord to the harmony of virtue. 

We may desire to do brave and lofty deeds ; to 
achieve signal moral victories ; to meet great emergen- 
cies with great virtues. It is an honorable aspiration. 
But we never shall fulfil it by any temporary or occa- 
sional exertions. We must not leave every such case 
to be met on the spur of the moment. We must have 
a general preparation for all such emergencies, the 
preparation of an established faith and a deep-seated 
devotion. Having that, we cannot be taken off our 
guard. Having it not, we can do no heroic thing. 
Men do not often rise far above their uniform level of 
moral attainment ; and when they do, they are apt to 
show that they are unused to the atmosphere, and fall 



THE SIMPLICITY OF CHRISTIAN DUTY. 



49 



ignominiously back again. Moral heroes are men that 
cherish high sentiments habitually ; the occasions when 
they display them do not create those sentiments, but 
only call them out from the bosom where they have 
their familiar dwelling-place. If we would be brave 
disciples, we must lift up the whole platform of our spir- 
itual life higher and higher continually, and then we 
shall stand on a broad and secure foothold, and nothing 
shall overturn our fidelity, or shake us from our stead- 
fastness. 

Such is the teaching of Scripture throughout. " Make 
the tree good and the fruit will be good." " If thine eye 
[or inward purpose] be single, thy whole body shall be 
full of light." u A good man, out of the good treasure 
of his heart, bringeth forth that which is good." " All 
the words of wisdom are plain to him that understand- 
eth," — plain and simple to him who has the seeing 
eye, the inward light, the living soul, in him. And " the 
whole law is fulfilled in one word." Jesus, the Great 
Teacher, sanctioned the same doctrine by his own 
method of instruction. He did not occupy himself with 
minute particulars and numberless details ; but he an- 
nounced certain general principles, a comprehensive 
spirit, which, once received into the heart, will include 
all particular duties, in all possible diversities of condi- 
tion in which a human being can be placed. This is 
his wisdom ; and it will be well for us when we adopt 
it in our self-discipline. We see it exemplified in our 
intercourse with some acquaintance. Without feeling 
cordially towards him, perhaps, we try to satisfy our 
conscience in treating him well. But though we try 
never so long, we never succeed till we come into right 
relations with him, get a sincere, brotherly affection for 
5 



50 



THE SIMPLICITY OF CHRISTIAN DUTY. 



him, and then we cannot go amiss from a manly justice 
and kindness to him. — Paul speaks of the simplicity 
that is in Christ, and of the danger of departing from it. 
The annals of the Church,- the pomp of its hierarchies, 
the ostentation of its rituals, and the complication of its 
creeds, show how just were his apprehensions, and how 
much the world needed his warning. 

Let me ask attention, before I close, to the practical 
bearing of the truth I hare attempted to present, by 
noticing the close connection it has with two great doc- 
trines that have been prominent in the religious teaching 
of the Church. I cannot help believing that this truth, 
namely, that the Christian requirement is very simple, 
and lays the chief stress on our getting a right heart, 
lies near the foundation of both of them. 

One of these is Justification by Faith, which has often 
been called the foremost doctrine of the Reformation, 
and is almost identified with Protestantism. It is a doc- 
trine that, as held by some of the Protestant sects, we 
discard. That mere faith, to the exclusion of righteous 
deeds and a good life-, if such a thing were possible, can 
justify or save a man, we do not believe. But, like most 
other tenets that have taken a powerful hold on the Chris- 
tian mind of ages, this one owes its influence to a certain 
measure and basis of truth in it. That truth seems to be 
this. There is a certain indwelling principle, as I have 
said, a spiritual frame of the mind, a comprehensive pur- 
pose, a devout posture of the soul, which is the first req- 
uisite to being really a Christian. Have that, and you 
have established an invisible fellowship with Christ. Call 
that principle Faith, — and I know of no more appro- 
priate name for it, — and we have then " Justification 
by Faith," a form of speech countenanced in Scriptu- 



THE SIMPLICITY OF CHRISTIAN DUTY. 51 



ral phraseology, and certainly highly significant. The 
Apostle himself said, — " Believe on the Lord Jesus 
Christ, and thou shalt be saved " ; that is, adopt that 
one spiritual conviction and you are safe, because it 
will include a thousand others. Believe on him sin- 
cerely, and that belief will assimilate you to his holiness. 
Luther saw the mistaken monks and the whole Romish 
world groping in their darkness, vainly imagining they 
could conciliate Heaven and reach salvation by a routine 
of lifeless ceremonies, — outside works of penance and 
self-mortification. He knew the shallowness of this 
delusion. He introduced at once a more spiritual con- 
ception ; he turned men's thoughts to their inward con- 
dition ; he held up an internal test, — reliance on God's 
mercy, manifested through Christ, — and called it Jus- 
tification by Faith ; till out of the unsightly destruction 
of the old came the fairer creation of the new. The 
name has become associated with partisan contentions ; 
and it has lost the respect of too many who ought at 
least to honor the thing it signifies. Rightly understood, 
it may be taken as that 64 one word " by which the 
whole law is fulfilled. 

The other practical doctrine I alluded to is that of 
Conversion, or Regeneration. Regeneration is a change 
which, of course, must be gradual in its completion ; 
but that it commences with the one great effort that I 
have dwelt upon, — the adoption of a new principle of 
life into the centre of the heart, — I believe to be true 
beyond a doubt. Viewed in the light of this fact, 
that work of renewal becomes wonderfully simplified. 
Would you be really and thoroughly converted from 
your sins, you must cast off the old, selfish aim, the 
worldly mind, the sensual motive, and " put on the new 



52 



THE SIMPLICITY OF CHRISTIAN DUTY. 



man," turn the current of the desires, baptize the affec- 
tions into a new spirit, take a new direction, obey a new 
law. Christian faith, by a strong determination of your 
free-will, must be made your guide, and Christian love 
your inspiration. It is a simple step, and God's spirit 
waits to help you. Then the virtues will cluster them- 
selves in a natural growth to adorn your life. Duties 
will flow from their source within the heart, like diverg- 
ing streams down fruitful hill-sides from their pure 
fountain in the mountain-reservoir. It is possible, I 
allow, that you may partially rectify some one bad ten- 
dency by taking it up separately. But you will not 
renovate the whole character. You may be morally 
stronger for that subordinate struggle, but the deep 
spring is not purified after all. You have not stirred 
the great principles of Christian reformation. "A char- 
acter, reformed and corrected in one part, while it is 
grovelling and. earthly in all others, is not a much come- 
lier sight than a tree with all the sweet nourishment of 
its juices diverted into a single green branch, — the rest 
standing dry, leafless, decaying, a distorted, one-sided 
thing. 

Finally, then, as you would become accepted disci- 
ples, strive for that one possession, as simple as it is 
sublime, — simple as a child's heart, plain as the Gos- 
pel, clear as the soul of Christ, — a spirit of indwelling 
faith. Deal with the great principles of the Christian 
life. Give them a resolute adoption and a firm lodg- 
ment in the soul. Grasp the one doctrine of love ; 
make it your own, and it will have infinitely varied man- 
ifestations in all your daily action. Give yourselves in 
unreserved allegiance to your Master, Christ. Be reno- 
vated, once and for ever, by his divine temper. Be led 



THE SIMPLICITY OF CHRISTIAN DUTY. 53 

by his heavenly instructions. Get the heart of love, the 
soul of faith, the disposition of duty. Cleanse the moral 
air in which you breathe. Expand your sympathies. 
Bear a generous and noble purpose at all times, into all 
places. Live a whole-hearted life, — genuine in its 
motive, right in its principles, pure in its spirit, and 
then you will not need to perplex yourself continually 
about petty rules of behaviour. Elevate the general 
level of your spiritual feeling ; lift that higher and high- 
er ; and then, raised above the world, you will come into 
the liberty and the light of the children of God ! 



SERMON V . 



BY CHARLES T. BROOKS. 



PREPARATIONS FOR THE CHRISTIAN RACE. 
lay aside every weight. — Hebrews xii. 1. 

This alludes to the practice of the competitor at the 
racing-match, who, having stripped himself of every 
encumbrance, and having also, as the Apostle reminds 
us in his Epistle to the Corinthians, subdued his body- 
by temperance, so that that shall be as little of a burden 
as possible, girds up his loins and prepares to pass light- 
ly and joyfully over the race-ground. This is the ex- 
ample the writer recommends to those who are called 
to run for the prize of perfection in Christ Jesus ; and 
in no respect is the example more instructive or im- 
portant than in this, that the racer in the games is care- 
ful to " lay aside every weight." 

And how often we see his example imitated in this 
particular by those who are not Christians, and do not 
pretend to be, on the great race-ground of human life 
and effort ! Observe the man who is enlisted — heart, 
soul, mind, and strength — in the race after riches ! 
see how wise he is to divest himself of every weight 
that would clog his steps, — how strong and stern to 



PREPARATIONS FOR THE CHRISTIAN RACE. 55 

deny himself those pleasures of body or mind which 
would damp his ardor for gain, or dull the edge of those 
faculties which, all alive and active, are so keenly bent 
upon its acquisition ! He robs himself of needful rest, 
in his anxiety lest sluggishness should steal from him 
his golden prize. He robs himself of the comforts of 
society, lest any friend should win away his affections 
from mammon. Nay, does he not sometimes, to make 
all sure, put away a good conscience, — put away all 
sense of his heavenly stewardship, — does he not (to 
change the figure for a moment), by way of lightening 
his unseaworthy bark, and riding over the sunken rocks 
and shoals among which he has godlessly ventured, 
cast overboard the last precious remnant of his small 
stock of faith, — does he not, in short, to resume our 
proper image, thus "lay aside," oftentimes, "every 
weight" of religious responsibility, that he may run the 
more lightly and successfully the race which the god 
of this world hath set before him. Again, look at the 
man who has entered the lists of ambition, — whose 
grand object is, with or without regard to the moral 
character of the means employed, as the case may 
be, to make himself notorious in the world. So 
anxious is he to shake off every weight that would re- 
tard his footsteps along the road to distinction, that at 
last, in many cases, he drains dry the very fountain of 
life, and lies there with a wasted body and a wander- 
ing mind, — a melancholy reproach upon the lukewarm- 
ness of those who, for infinitely nobler rewards than 
he sought, are commanded only to give their bodies a 
living sacrifice, and who yet, so often, have not ambition 
enough to live for that perfection, in hunting after the 
shadow of which, he not only lived, but died ! 



56 



PREPARATIONS FOR THE 



Thus ready are they to lay aside every weight, who 
run for no higher prize than earthly aggrandizement, — 
whose god is gold or glory. Why is it that Chris- 
tians (I do not mean merely those who so call them- 
selves or whom the world calls so, but why is it that 
they who, ^whatever their actual character or preten- 
sions, know and feel that they ought to be Christians) 
are so often found running their race uncertainly ? 

Can it be that any of us fail to perceive that we have 
a race to run ? Can it be that we want inducements 
to begin and continue the moral race ? May it be that 
we turn away from ourselves the point of the inspired 
appeals and admonitions, by pleading that they were 
meant merely for professed and professing Christians ? 
Our consciences will not bear us out in this self-decep- 
tion. What though we are not expressly pledged to 
be Christians (so to speak) by a formal confession of 
Christ before men ? We know, and in our sober mo- 
ments confess to ourselves, that Jesus is the man and 
the master whom we should imitate and obey, and 
that until we do so there can be no peace for us. We 
may feel that we are not actually and absolutely Chris- 
tians, but we do know that we ought to be. A constant- 
ly increasing cloud of witnesses bends over our path- 
way ; myriads of souls, purified and perfected by just 
such temptations as we are called to encounter, watch 
us with intense interest and anxiety, lest we should 
slink from the race-ground on which God calls us to 
run for the crown of righteousness and glory. Is not 
Such a race set before each one of us ? Does not 
every thoughtful man (I will not say merely Christian 
believer) feel and know that he has this race to run ? 
Does not the very consciousness of powers fitted for 



CHRISTIAN RACE. 



57 



infinite improvement, — a conscience alive to every im- 
perfection, — does not the very freedom which we each 
feel is intrusted to us, proclaim, as with the very voice 
of God, "I have set a race before thee"? Yes, 
the mingling voices of conscience and Providence and 
nature admonish us that we are made for perpetual 
progress in knowledge, wisdom, and goodness, and by 
their ever-varied and powerful appeals are urging us 
upward and onward. Conscience, the whisper of God 
in the soul, — his "most intimate presence in the 
world," — is daily teaching and enforcing this lesson. 
It comes to us as often as morning returns, with its 
renewed opportunities of improvement and of benefi- 
cence, — it comes to us at noontide amidst the multi- 
tude of a Father's mercies, — it comes to us sweetly 
at the even-tide of a well-spent day, solemnly at 
the close of a day misspent and wasted. The dissatis- 
faction which will steal over us in many an hour when 
we fancy we are doing much and yet fear we are do- 
ing nothing, — the consciousness that when we have 
done all we are still unprofitable servants, — the deep 
self-reproach we feel when any little progress we may 
have made in wisdom or goodness is suffered to damp 
our zeal for further and nobler improvement, — these 
are but so many tones in which conscience is daily 
reminding us for what we were created. Nothing short 
of moral perfection will satisfy the inward monitor, and 
give man the peace for which he strives and sighs. So 
long as we offend, at least habitually, in one point, 
though we keep the whole law beside, we feel and 
should feel as if we were guilty of all. No obedience 
can atone for that one wrong trait or habit. Such is 
the teaching of conscience. Providence, by all the 



58 



PREPARATIONS FOR THE 



changes of our eventful lives, is repeating the lesson 
and the law, teaching us, as worldly treasures and 
comforts drop from us, like the leaves of summer, to 
live above the world, and labor for "an inheritance in- 
corruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away," re- 
served for them that patiently continue in well-doing. 
Nature, with her thousand voices, admonishes us to be 
diligent. Day unto day utters this speech, — night unto 
night showeth knowledge of this, — that we should be 
growing u wiser and better as life wears away." Sea- 
sons, as they succeed each other, each reaping the 
benefit of its predecessor, admonish us thus to make 
each period of our moral life redound to higher pro- 
gress in the next. How natural the exclamation which 
the prophet puts into the mouth of a slothful and sin- 
ful people: — "The harvest is past, the summer is 
ended, and we are not saved" ! How many are often 
visited by uncomfortable reflections of this nature, — 
are compelled to say, as seasons and opportunities pass, 
not only that they are not saved, but that they are not 
even seriously seeking salvation ! 

By such modes as these God is calling us to Christ, 
and he, in turn, is calling us to God, summoning us to 
be perfect, even as our Father in heaven is perfect. 
By the memory of the toil he underwent, the comforts 
he denied himself, the sorrows he suffered, that he might 
become a perfect and remain a pure man, might keep 
undimmed the image of God within his bosom, and 
leave us an example of what humanity aided from on 
high can bear and can achieve, — by the disinterested 
devotion with which he bore and forbore, and accom- 
plished all, — by the war he waged even unto death 
with the sins that beset every mortal's pathway, — he 



CHRISTIAN RACE. 



59 



is still entreating us to " run with patience the race 
that is set before us." From his bright abode he is 
beckoning us to tread the path which he has trod, and 
share the triumph he has won. He holds out to us a 
crown of glory, and says, — "To him that overcometh 
will I grant to sit with me in my throne, even as I also 
overcame and am set down with my Father in his 
throne." 

It cannot be that all these voices of conscience, 
Christ and God are lost upon our ears. It is very evi- 
dent, if only from the pains we have to take to con- 
tent ourselves without obeying it, that we hear the ad- 
monition and feel its force. True, our eyes are holden 
often, that we do not see the full beauty of Christ's 
character, the full glory of the prize of perfection ; but 
this is not the worst, — our feet are holden by heavy 
weights, so that we cannot run, without tiring, the race 
marked out for us. Would we only lay aside every 
weight that now hangs about our hearts and encumbers 
our steps, we should run our race, not with patience 
only, but with joy. 

There is a weight of skepticism lying on the world- 
ly mind, — a lurking doubt of the value and reality of 
religion, and a doubt of the attainability of holiness, — 
arising from long-cherished low tastes and selfish pur- 
poses, as well as from daily contact with depraved ex- 
ample, which hangs like a mill-stone around the necks 
of many, and prevents their rising above the world. 
Talk to them of loving virtue for virtue's sake, — doing 
duty because it is duty, — striving to be perfect as God 
is perfect and because he is, — they will answer you 
with that shallow smile of worldly wisdom which seems 
to say, — " All very beautiful; but we do not see 



60 



PREPARATIONS FOR THE 



any living examples amongst us of that disinterested 
virtue, that high allegiance to duty, which you, in the 
simplicity of your heart, call on man to practise." It 
is this secret, this shallow skepticism which chains 
multitudes to the earth, conscious the while that they 
were born for heaven. They look upon the average 
goodness of the world as the standard at which they are 
to aim, and with which they are to rest satisfied. At 
most, they are satisfied to be as good as the best seem 
to them to be. And thus they naturally bring the 
standard down to their own level. Let any one who 
is laboring under a skepticism like this converse with 
his own heart in his better moments. He knows that 
virtue is something real, — that it is not a shade, — 
that it is not a vain thing for man, because it is his only 
lasting good and real life. He knows that every man 
was made for virtue, — is capable of generous virtue, 
— and that to point to the imperfections and inconsis- 
tencies of presumed or pretended saints, as a proof that 
man is not called to be perfect, is pitiable sophistry. 
Let him turn his eyes away from the world a little 
while, and look unto Jesus. Contemplating his holy 
and harmless life, — holy and undefiled, though spent 
in the midst of corruption, — harmless, meek, and mer- 
ciful, though embittered by perpetual persecution, — 
let him remember that there is a pattern of what man 
might and should be. I know what reply the weak- 
ness of the flesh, backed by time-hallowed misrepre- 
sentations of our Saviour's nature, will make to such 
appeals. They will be pronounced presumptuous. I 
shall be reminded that Jesus was in a totally different 
sphere from ours, — that he was endowed with miracu- 
lous gifts, and was made conscious, in some manner 



CHRISTIAN RACE. 



61 



to us wholly mysterious, of a special commission from 
on high. I nowhere read, however, nor do I believe, 
that his goodness was a miraculous gift, any more than 
all goodness is. I believe that it grew up to perfec- 
tion through just such discipline as is appointed for us. 
I read that Jesus " was tempted in all points like as we 
are." I read that he prayed ; — why, if not for moral 
strength ? I do not believe that his virtue was a me- 
chanical or miraculous thing, — that he was merely a 
passive instrument of the Divine will. He had a will 
of his own, and he freely submitted it to God, saying, 
"Not my will, Father, but thine, be done!" The 
question is not, then, what sphere we are called to fill, 
but whether in that sphere we are not sacredly bound 
to manifest just such a spirit as Jesus did in his. We, 
too, have each a call and a commission from on high, 
as truly as Jesus had. Our faculties and our affections, 
which are the inspiration of God, and our position in 
the world, are a call from him, clearer and stronger, 
perhaps, than any outward call could be ; and the very 
emotions of admiration and shame with which w T e 
follow our Saviour's history and unavoidably contrast 
its spirit with our own, are as good as the audible 
voice of the Author of our nature, saying, " Go, and 
do thou likewise." O, let not that dead weight of 
skepticism, that unmanly and irreverent distrust of our 
nature, our calling and our destiny, drag us down to 
the dust ! Let this burden be dropped at the foot of 
Christ's cross, and consider whether there is no mean- 
ing in the word which says that he is the " Captain of 
our salvation " ! 

But how many there are who even see the beauty 
of holiness, — feel the worth of virtue, — find no peace 
6 



62 



PREPARATIONS FOR THE 



in an unspiritual life, — are heart-sick of the toil and 
torment the god of this world imposes on his worship- 
pers, — long to engage in a better service, — and yet 
cannot summon energy enough to shake off the old 
yoke ! Sometimes they do make an effort to run the 
new race, with their fetters still clanking around them ; 
but they soon stumble and fall away. So must it be 
with every one who slights the admonitions of inspired 
wisdom. A voice from old time and from above bids 
us first " lay aside every weight." 

One weight, which hinders many such from running 
with freedom and perseverance the race set before 
them, is the heavy remembrance of past sins and follies. 
But why should the recollections of the past interfere 
with the obligations of the present ? The past is fixed 
and fled for ever. It can neither be changed nor called 
back. Neither tears nor prayers can make that not 
to have been which has been, or undo what has been 
done. But though no floods of sorrow can wash away 
the record of conscience, God's mercy can throw over 
it the veil of forgiveness, and will do so the moment 
we repent and seek his forgiveness, and show the sin- 
cerity of our repentance by beginning the work of 
reformation. 

But there is still another weight, the heaviest of all, 
to be laid aside. Not the memory of past disobedience 
merely, but, far more, the evil habits which have re- 
sulted from it, — the low tastes, — the worldly tenden- 
cies it has left in the character, — all these are to be 
counteracted and corrected before w T e can be ready to 
run the race of Christian living. This preparation, 
of course, is not to be made in a moment. It may 
be begun at any moment. By severe meditation on 



CHRISTIAN RACE.' 



63 



lofty and eternal things, — by struggling with self as 
for life, — by humble and hearty prayer to Him with 
whom alone is the sufficiency, — by seizing the oppor- 
tunity, when our minds are most free from the world, 
to do something for God or man, — we may be gradu- 
ally lessening the weight of that sin which, by reason 
of long indulgence, doth still so easily beset us. Hard, 
indeed, may be the struggle, — severe the sacrifice, — 
but the sterner the conflict, the nobler the victory ; the 
sweeter the peace, the more glorious the triumph. 
" There is joy in heaven over one sinner that re- 
penteth." 

Are we of the number of those who are said to 
"need no repentance " ? Are we "just persons," — ■ 
righteous as Christ is righteous ? He is our standard. 
It is idle to dream of satisfying our consciences while 
we aim short of him. Let us not deceive ourselves 
by comparing ourselves among ourselves. Let us not 
waste, in inventing compromises with conscience, ener- 
gies lent us by Heaven for far other and nobler pur- 
poses. While there is one sin, — gloss it over by what 
name we please, — call it fault, frailty, infirmity, or what- 
ever else, — so long as there is a single sin, of thought 
or speech, deed or desire, omission or commission, 
which secretly besets and conquers us, — let us not 
lay the flattering unction to our souls that we may set 
over against this one sin so many virtues that there 
shall be a balance in our favor. " A little leaven 
leaveneth the whole lump." Even supposing we had 
the pretended or fancied virtues, the fact would only 
make our one sinful habit or disposition so much the 
darker a blemish on our characters. 

When we have once laid aside every weight, — 



64 



PREPARATIONS FOR THE 



shaken our souls free of earthly encumbrance, — then, 
standing up and standing forth in our manly and Chris- 
tian liberty, we shall no longer need to be admonished 
that we have a race to run. Our sight once purged 
from sin and selfishness, the image of heavenly perfection 
will beam out before us in all its real effulgence, — the 
nearness of that cloud of witnesses will be felt by the 
soul, and there the moral race-ground will lie before 
us in noonday light and more than earthly glory. The 
vision will charm and cheer our eyes. Our ears, free 
from the teasings of earthly anxiety, the bewildering 
din of confused and conflicting passions, will hear 
voices innumerable and irresistible urging and invoking 
us onward. They will call us from the east and from 
the west to lay hold on the starry crown. But we 
shall require no encouragement. Our feet, clear of the 
weights and clogs that held them to earth, will, of them- 
selves, leap to advance in that path where alone is 
freedom. The spirit, no longer weighed down by the 
superincumbent mass of earthly corruption, will rise, by 
its own natural buoyancy, into its native and proper 
ethereal element. 

Say not in your hearts and habits, — say not in 
your tastes and daily temper, — that the large and lofty 
considerations on which we have been dwelling over- 
look, overleap, and mock the hard and homely duties 
of ordinary life. What is it that you are called on to 
do ? Simply to keep a high and holy purpose before 
you in all life's relations, — not to go out of the world 
(which you could not do if you would), but simply 
to use the world as not abusing it and as not abused 
by it. Whatever your hands find to do, that your 
hearts and consciences tell you is worthy to be done 



CHRISTIAN RACE. 



65 



by men and Christians, do it with your might ! The 
Christian race-ground runs through the midst of the 
gay and busy scenes of human care and enterprise, 
pleasure and passion. You are admonished only to 
lay aside those iveights which the world hangs around 
the neck of its slave. Do this, and the very labors, 
and obligations, and cares of your every-day life, so 
far from proving stumbling-stones in your spiritual 
path, will serve for stepping-stones to perfection. You 
will find them the rounds of that ladder, which, resting 
on the earth, reaches to the skies. 

Be not satisfied, or rather, dream not that you 
can satisfy yourself, with a negative, a nominal re- 
ligion. The nature God has given you demands some- 
thing more. Be admonished, be persuaded, to study 
your nature and learn its wants. Spurn the sophistries 
of importunate desire, — of the sin, the selfishness, the 
sluggishness, which so easily beset you. Be not afraid 
nor ashamed to converse with your very innermost 
selves, and with those thoughts which are continually 
accusing or else excusing one another in the inner cham- 
ber and judgment-hall of every human bosom. cc Lis- 
ten in prayer at the oracle within." Meditate on those 
restless aspirations after purity and perfection, which 
nothing but the consciousness of constant progress can 
begin to satisfy. Lay aside that heavy weight which 
he must for ever bear about with him whose conscience 
tells him that he has no real and hearty love of moral 
and spiritual excellence itself, but only wishes to es- 
cape in the easiest manner possible the burdensome 
sense of obligation. Be assured, you never can be 
happy, so long as you merely ask yourself, Am I clear 
of the foul caverns of vice ? — Are my skirts free from 
6 * 



66 PREPARATIONS FOR THE CHRISTIAN RACE. 



the stains of outright iniquity ? Never, till your habit- 
ual question is, Am I positively running and rejoicing 
in the sunshine of the Redeemer's righteousness ? — Am 
I breathing the free and vigorous mountain- air of Chris- 
tian faith and hope and charity ? 



SERMON VI. 



BY NATHANIEL HALL. 



THE PLEADINGS OF GOD'S SPIRIT. 

BEHOLD, I STAND AT THE DOOR, AND KNOCK. — Rev. Hi. 20. 

God is often conceived of as a far-distant Being. If 
in our devotional phraseology we speak of him as near 
and present, the truth which the words convey seems 
not to be apprehended in its fulness. 

That God is present to every portion of his universe 
is what reason assures us must be. The energy that 
called into being must be ever present to uphold. The 
work of creation was not once only, but is momently re- 
peated. The beauty and sublimity that we see around us 
are not the tokens of a Presence passed away. They are 
the radiant footsteps of a present God ; the garment in 
which he clothes himself ; the visible outbreaking of his 
eternal thought. Not in the infinite height alone, where 
eye nor thought 'has wandered, but here also, here and 
everywhere, is God, — the all-witnessing, all-pervading, 
all-quickening soul. 

But in an added and higher sense is he present to his 
spiritual offspring. His spiritual offspring, — familiar 
words ! but how little do we regard, do we comprehend. 



68 



THE PLEADINGS OF GOD's SPIRIT. 



their import ! The Father of our spirits, the Soul of our 
souls, literally and truly, is God. They partake of 
his nature. They are a portion of himself. Yes, ex- 
alting thought ! — something of God the soul is ; a com- 
munication of his own intelligence, — of his own moral 
attributes. It is formed in his image. It is receptive of 
his life. It is made capable of bearing that image, of 
receiving that life, in ever-increasing degrees of fulness 
and of power. What a glorious distinction is this, — 
that we are made in the likeness of God ! — that we 
may grow into that likeness, for ever and ever, by con- 
tinually fresh communications from his infinite Spirit ! 
What a glorious distinction, — that a spark of the Di- 
vinity inheres within us, susceptible to influences from 
its sacred Source, that shall fan it ever to an ascending 
flame, and bring us into intimate and blissful union with 
the Almighty Father ! How poor, how empty, how in- 
significant, seem all temporal distinctions compared with 
this ! Why do we make so much of them ? Why do 
we overlook, in the circumstances of man's earthly con- 
dition, the great fact of his inheriting a spiritual nature, 
— of his being, in solemn truth, a child of the Eternal ? 
Why are we giving, so almost exclusively, our care and 
attention to what is outward and transitory, while with- 
in us are the elements of a holy temple in which the 
very God may dwell, and over us his waiting inspira- 
tion, to quicken and expand them in an immortal beau- 
ty ? O man, man ! — when wilt thou know thyself as 
thou art, and uplift thyself, in lowly dignity, on thy spir- 
itual distinction, and be enamoured of thy possible 
achievement ? ^— when wilt thou recognize, in thy rela- 
tion to the Holiest, in thy capacity for receiving into 
thyself, and for evermore, of his exhaustless fulness, 



THE PLEADINGS OF GOD's SPIRIT. 



69 



the true distinction of thy being ? — when wilt thou make 
an unfaltering fidelity to these the high aim of thy being ? 
— when wilt thou see in these man's sacred title to be 
reverenced, his enduring claim to thy sympathy and re- 
gard, — a claim no longer to be overruled by the paltry 
considerations of wealth, of place, of power ? 

We are blinded to man's true distinction, because our 
unspiritual hearts give us so little consciousness of it. 
We see not God in others, because in our own souls his 
presence is so unfelt. Some are even led, from this 
cause, to question the literal truth of those Scripture pas- 
sages which speak of man's filial relation to the Deity, — 
of those promises that his Holy Spirit shall enter into 
and abide with those who prepare themselves for its re- 
ception, and the soul become the temple of God. Cru- 
elest skepticism ! that with regard to man's capacity for 
the divine life, — to the sincerity of those calls made up- 
on him from the holy word to become one with the Fa- 
ther, and receive from him, to this end, communications 
of life, and light, and power ! O, discard such skepti- 
cism ! Believe in the indwelling God. Believe in that 
inspiration of the Almighty which is the soul's native en- 
dowment, and that continually proffered inspiration by 
which its hidden powers may be unfolded, immeasurably 
and eternally, and the riches of a boundless grace be 
poured into it. Believe it to be the chief end for which 
God reveals himself, that the Divine may live in the hu- 
man, — the life of God in the soul of man ; the end, es- 
pecially, of his revelations by Christ ; and that then 
only is the purpose of Christ's mission accomplished, 
when, in his own words, we are filled with the Father's 
fulness, and dwell in God, and have God dwelling in us. 
The expressions to this effect from those holy lips are 



70 



THE PLEADINGS OF GOD's SPIRIT. 



no senseless imagery. They have a meaning, — a 
meaning for us ; ay, and a deep and a glorious mean- 
ing. God still is. He is not imprisoned in the Past. 
But now, as ever, he exists and acts, — an actual Pres- 
ence, a living Power. " No nearer was he at Tabor, or 
Gethsemane, than here, to us, this day and every day. 
Neither the nature he inspires, nor his perennial inspira- 
tion, grows older with the lapse of time ; every human 
being that is born is a first man, fresh in this creation, and 
as open to heaven as if Eden were spread around him ; 
and every blessed kindling of faith and new sanctity is a 
touch of his spirit as living, a gift as immediate from his 
exhaustless store of holy power, as the strength that be- 
friended Jesus in his temptation, or the angel-calm that 
closed his agony." Forever stands the promise to the 
pure in heart, that " they shall see God." 

He is near to all souls ; but how few of all discern 
him, — how few receive him ! Many are seeking for 
him afar, with their philosophies and theologies ; roaming 
abroad with theories and speculations, sounding and in- 
terrogating the whole metaphysical world ; — while he is 
nearer to them than the nearest beside ; yea, at the 
door of their hearts he stands, — he knocks. 

But he enters not. The interposing barrier is their 
own earth-bound affections, unsanctified desires, and un- 
obedient wills. Let these be removed ; let them re- 
nounce all impurity, all self-seeking, all worldliness, and 
he will come in and bless them as all the universe beside 
could not. u If any man love me, and keep my words, 
my Father will love him, and we will come unto him, 
and make our abode with him." 

God is revealed to us as the gracious lover of all 
souls, desiring to redeem all from sin, waiting, with in- 



THE PLEADINGS OF GOD'S SPIRIT. 71 



finite compassion, to lead them to their rest, to restore 
to them their departed peace, to impress upon them 
more and more resplendently his moral likeness, and 
thus make them, in the highest sense, his own. The ob- 
stacle to this — the only one — is in the soul itself ; 
by itself placed there, and kept there. A moral effort, 
on its own part, is necessary, in order to remove the ob- 
stacle, — to unloose the door. I repeat it, let it hush 
the strife of unholy passions ; let it cease from the pur- 
suit of selfish ends ; let it be faithfully true to con- 
science, to its own light, to the written word ; let it 
humble itself as a little child, be as confiding, as loving, 
as simple-hearted ; let its prayer be for God, — his light, 
hislove, his life, — and he will manifest himself ; that 
soul shall feel the answer to its prayer, and realize the 
fulfilment to it of the Saviour's promise. God cannot 
bless us as he would, against our wills. He cannot 
force upon us the heavenly good his infinite love de- 
signs. We must desire it. We must make room for 
it. We must open the door. 

For this he waits. At the door of thy heart he stands, 
O sinner ! and has stood these many years, waiting for 
thee to yield him entrance. He has not been wearied by 
thy long delay. He has not abandoned thee to thy wil- 
ful hardness. But still, as at each moment of thy past 
existence, he stands there, — and knocks. In the events 
of life, in the scenes of nature, in the Sabbath's teach- 
ings, in the presentation in any form of holy truth, — 
in every elevated thought by these suggested, every seri- 
ous impression produced, every throb of devotional sen- 
sibility awakened, — has God called thee, has his spirit 
plead with thee to open to him thy heart. 

As you have stood amid the spring-time's bursting 



72 



THE PLEADINGS OF GOd's SPIRIT. 



beauty, and seen the myriad buds unroll to the genial 
air, and the timid blossoms look up from the softened 
sod, and have heard the glad warbling of the returning 
birds, and felt on cheek and brow the warm, fresh 
breath of the straying breeze, — as every thing around 
seemed instinct with rejoicing life, and your purified 
thought has ascended to the great Creator, and you have 
believed that he was Love, and your heart in relenting 
tenderness has almost joined in that hymn of gratitude 
which all nature seemed to send upward, — then, by 
that sweet conviction, by that throb of unvoiced devo- 
tion, by that impulse to yield thyself thenceforward to 
his guiding hand, did he speak to you, did he call you. 
And as your thoughts have rested at life's rejoicing 
spring-time, as childhood has come back to you, with 
its varied experiences, — its hopes and joys, and ready 
sympathies, and blessed freedom, and stainless heart, 
— and you have sighed at your long, far wanderings 
from its innocence, and have wished back its unbro- 
ken peace, and have longed to feel upon your soul the 
breath of your Maker's forgiveness, — then, then, too, 
did his spirit plead. And when memory has recalled to 
thy side the mother that bare thee, — her tender love, 
her fond caress, her patient care, her gentle virtues, her 
holy counsels, her prayers that God would guard her child 
from evil when she should sleep in death, — as those 
counsels and prayers have come back upon thy heart 
with a softening power, and thou hast knelt and prayed 
that they might not be all unblessed, — then has the 
ever-present God sought an entrance within thy soul. 

And when you have stood at the bedside of a belov- 
ed child, and seen, with anxious heart, the shadow of 
disease deepening upon its fair countenance ; and in its 



THE PLEADINGS OF GOD's SPIRIT, 73 

fevered brow, and languid eye, and quickened pulse, 
have had forced upon you the fearful anticipation ; and 
have gone in your distress to a Father's throne — long, it 
may have been, unvisited — for help and succor ; ■ — and 
when that child was at length taken, and lay before you 
in marble beauty, —-the vacant shrine of your fond idol- 
atry ; and your faith, with unwonted vigor, followed it 
in its heavenward flight, and entered with it its home 
of purity, and prayed that you, too, might one day be 
there ; — and when, as your eyes have rested on the 
treasured memorials of the departed, or as, in night's sol- 
emn stillness, you have lain wakeful upon your bed, or 
have looked forth in the spiritual light of the o'er-watch- 
ing stars, the thought has come over you of child, or 
parent, or brother, or sister, or dearest friend, as living 
in that world of light, and bending, it might be, with 
fondest interest, over the loved ones of its earlier home ; 
and you have been conscious of the hallowing influence 
of such thoughts, and have felt loosed from the binding 
sway of the senses and the world, and have had better 
thoughts and holier purposes stirred within you ; — and 
when you have felt upon your frame the hot, stern grasp 
of disease ; and the great work of life seemed all un- 
done, though apparently its last sands were falling ; 
and conscience has stung you with sharp reproaches, 
and you have called upon your neglected God, and re- 
solved in the depth of your heart, should life be spared, 
to live it in his service ; — and when you have felt upon 
your fortunes the pressure of calamity, and been made 
to know how vain the dependence upon earthly good, 
how vain the thought of resting there one's hope of hap- 
piness ; — in all these, and in every thing that has urged 
you to prayer and thoughtfulness, to meditation upon life, 
7 



74 



THE PLEADINGS OF GOD's SPIRIT. 



and duty, and privilege, and obligation, has Got! called 
you, — ■ has his spirit plead for a lodgement within your 
hearts. 

And, O, how often have we grieved that spirit, and 
suffered to be quenched the holy spark it was fan- 
ning into a flame ! How have the voices of the living 
and the dead, of earth and heaven, of nature and grace, 
of love and of terror, been lifted up in vain ! How have 
we again surrendered ourselves to worldly and sensualiz- 
ing influences, and kept our hearts still barred against an 
all-encompassing Deity, — an all-living Father ! 

" How oft our guardian angel gently cried, 
' Soul, from thy casement look without and see 
How he persists to knock and wait for thee ! ' 
And, O ! how often to that voice of sorrow, 
' To-morrow we will open,' we replied, 
And when the morrow came we answered still, ' To-morrow.' " 

My friend, seasons such as I have described will re- 
turn upon us. Serious thoughts, kindling aspirations, 
prayerful resolves ; hopes, desires, purposes, after a ho- 
lier life ; — these will again be ours, — as God is merci- 
ful. I beseech you, cherish them. Let them not come 
to naught. Bind them to thy heart by daily meditation. 
Pray over them with all thy spirit's fervor. God is in 
them. Thy Father pleads in them. In resisting them 
thou dost resist his grace ; yea, thou dost war against thy 
soul's everlasting happiness. — God will not cease to 
call to thee. But closer and closer, by every neglect of 
his promptings, grow the folds of indifference ; and that 
gentle voice may not pierce them ; — farther and farther 
goes the soul from its rest, and long, long and toilsDme, 
the steps by which it must return. 



THE PLEADINGS OF GOd's SPIRIT. 



75 



Now does that voice plead with thee ? tc Quench not 
the spirit." Resist not its strivings. Yield thyself to 
thy Father's guidance. For he is thy Father ; and he 
will surely lead thee to thy rest, — thy home. 



SERMON VII. 



BY JAMES I. T. COOLIDGE. 



THE ATTRACTION OF THE FATHER. 

NO MAN CAN COME TO ME, EXCEPT THE FATHER WHICH HATH SENT 

me draw him. — John vi. 44. 

I desire to explain and develop the significance of 
this passage. How are men drawn to Christ by God ? 
What is the attractive influence exerted ? I answer, in 
brief, it consists in the divine voice in the soul, which 
becomes audible in the longing after a union with God. 
Every man who hears the inward and attracting voice 
of the Father, and suffers himself to be taught by it con- 
cerning his needs, enters into union with Christ. This 
truth it will be my purpose to illustrate and enforce. 

I remark, in the first place, that there is in every soul 
a divine voice. In the inmost sanctuary of the human 
breast, in the deep and unfathomable recesses of the 
soul's being, God for ever dwells and speaks. There is 
an inward holy of holies, of which all other temples are 
but the faintest types, where passion does not come, 
and earthly sounds are hushed, and the presence of the 
Father spreads the sacred peace which passeth under- 
standing. There is the throne of the Most High, and 



THE ATTRACTION OF THE FATHER. 77 

there the pure soul worships in silence and adores ; and 
there for ever the divine voice, speaking of heavenly 
and eternal verities, gives forth clear and beautiful utter- 
ances. It speaks of truth and duty, of love and faith, 
of heaven and immortality. It offers explanation of life, 
of its trials and griefs, of its joys and blessings, and 
makes indubitable the eternal destiny of the human spirit. 
But this voice may be silenced for a season ; and it is si- 
lenced in many hearts by the noise of this world's cares 
and perplexities. To most men God seems apart, dwell- 
ing in the depths of his infinity, and visiting the world of 
man but once or twice in a thousand generations. Or if 
they would seek Him, it is in the silence of nature, in 
the mountain visited all night by troops of stars, or in 
the deep, sombre wood, or in the temple which their 
own hands have builded, that they hope to find Him. 
The secret places of their own souls are unknown 
to them ; the shrine of God in the heart is unvisit- 
ed. They have not learned to wait in silence for the 
utterance of God within. For what is the life of men ? 
Is it not an outward life simply, a life ministered to only 
by worldly influences ? The talk and the concern of 
men are gain, pleasure, worldly comfort, ease, and pros- 
perity. What is the highest purpose of most of those 
with whom we meet ? — not what they believe it ought to 
be, but what it really is 9 What is it they are in reality 
living for and towards ? In the great majority, it is for 
mere worldly success, as told in the amount of their in- 
come, the rich furniture that adorns their dwellings, in 
the materials of pleasure and ease they gather around 
them. Success, mere worldly success, is the engrossing 
care of multitudes of men. Grant this, and they imag- 
ine the highest good attained ; withhold this, they feel all 
7 * 



7S THE ATTRACTION OF THE FATHER. 



is lost, and life's great end for ever defeated. Spiritual 
interests are vague and shadowy. They count noth- 
ing, they weigh nothing, they go for nothing, in the esti- 
mation of the throng. They are not discerned, con- 
ceived, realized. They are driven back into a misty 
dream-land, where unsubstantial shadows wander, or they 
hover dimly in the sick man's chamber or by the dead 
man's bier. They come not, are not suffered to come 
and stand in the dusty, busy streets, where men buy and 
sell, and get gain, — where traffic is loud and souls are 
bartered, sold, and lost. And so do men live a life that 
is outward, sensual, superficial. What more unknown 
than a man's soul ! what stranger place than a man's 
heart ! How few can speak of its interests, how few 
will assemble for the satisfaction of those interests ! How 
can the still, small voice of God be heard amidst the loud 
clamor of the world which is suffered to fill thus the 
whole inward being, and which makes the temple of 
God, which temple we are, a mere house of merchan- 
dise, or pleasure, or revelry ? 

But it is not so for ever. There are times in the ex- 
perience of each when this voice sounds up above all 
others with fearful power and emphasis, and startles like 
the archangel's trump the slumber of the heart. Heav- 
en grows distinct. The infinite fear of severe but just 
retribution falls terribly upon the mind. The soul is 
seen and felt to be emaciated, starving, its powers weak- 
ened, its purest hopes withered, its most generous and 
noble aspirations chilled into a deathly lethargy. We 
are conscious of the Father by our side, looking on the 
works which the years of our life have wrought with deep 
displeasure, and hear his voice sounding through the 
emptiness of our soul, and saying, with fearful distinctness, 



THE ATTRACTION OF THE FATHER. 



79 



" The way of the transgressor is hard " ; u The soul 
that sinneth, it shall die." Or if such seasons are not in 
our experience, there are times when a crushing sense 
of the vanity of all life's pursuits comes over us ; 
when prosperity palls, and success has lost its glow, and 
pleasure has ceased to charm ; w T hen we feel a want that 
is not, and cannot be satisfied with the objects that now 
claim our industry and thought ; when the soul stirs 
within us and asks for its own proper food, and we feel 
we have it not to give ; and we seem to hear a voice 
awakening us to the consciousness of something more 
important than the wants of the body to provide for, 
something more than this life to provide for, and giving 
birth to hopes and fears not connected with the desires 
of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, — 
hopes and fears which take hold upon those very spirit- 
ual interests which we had thought so vague and shad- 
owy, and press them upon the trembling soul as solemn, 
momentous, awful realities. 

Or there are times when the soul is stirred, we know 
not how or whence. It longs to break away from its 
servitude, and become free. It would put on the 
strength of virtue, the unbending erectness of principle, 
the grace of charity, the purity of devotion, and the 
beauty of holiness, It hears the call which religion 
makes, and would answer it with ready obedience. It 
feels itself summoned to noble deeds and high enter- 
prises, — deeds which have an imperishable worth and 
dignity, and enterprises which look far beyond the pres- 
ent for their full accomplishment. It would throw off 
its insincerity, its hard insensibility, its unworthy disloy- 
alty to conscience and truth, and take up with a gener- 
ous alacrity and a strong will and a pure purpose the 
vocation to which it is called of God. 



80 



THE ATTRACTION OF THE FATHER. 



Or there are times of solemn and silent meditation, 
as we walk abroad with nature's pure scenes around us ; 
as the sun sinks with flaming clouds attended, or as the 
night falls, and the stars come out, one by one, in the 
silent vault that bends over us ; or alone in the busy 
streets ; or in the long night-watch by the side of the 
dying ; or in the silent hour, come when it may, there 
are times when meditation brings holy visions, and the 
earth's walls are broken down, and the freed soul soars 
upward into the illimitable space, and feels, through ev- 
ery living sensibility, its own immortality, its supremacy 
over time and sense, its life when the outward man, the 
mortal body, shall be dust and ashes in the grave. Then 
does the divine voice within woo and win us to peni- 
tence, to holiness, and peace, as it softly whispers, — 
".My son, -give me thine heart." 

In these and all similar seasons the divine voice be- 
comes audible, and stirs the strong yearning of the soul 
for a perfect union with God, — to be one with Him in 
plan and purpose, in every thought and in every pursuit. 
The soul is convinced that in reconciliation with God 
alone is there peace, joy, rest, satisfaction ; that until it 
attain to this, it must be miserable, and poor, and 
wretched. And in this conviction, this consciousness, 
we feel that drawing of the Father of which Christ 
spoke in our text, this longing after union with God, 
this desire to be evermore at one with Him, to be con- 
scious of the protecting presence of the Most High, of 
his everlasting arms around and beneath us, of his bosom 
open to be our refuge and rest ; this earnest looking of 
the soul towards God is the strong attraction of the Fa- 
ther. Yet it is not an irresistible power. Tt is no 
compulsory influence. It may be withstood, opposed. 



THE ATTRACTION OF THE FATHER. 81 

and rejected. The solemn season may pass, and the 
Holy Spirit may be grieved away. The heart swayed 
and lifted by the sacred movement may sink back into 
its former heavy lethargy again. The pure emotions, 
the generous and devout aspirations, that raised the soul 
so near its freedom and true glory, may perish, one by 
one, and let the soul down again to its poverty and ser- 
vitude, — and the divine voice be hushed into silence 
once more. 

But if we would cherish and realize the salvation 
such moments promise, whither shall we turn for guid- 
ance, for strength and hope? We are seeking with 
strong desire a deep and full sense of oneness with 
God, of reconciliation with the power above us. But 
how shall we come to the Father, we who have been 
and still are in the rocky wilderness of sin? Who or 
what shall assure us of the inextinguishable tenderness 
of the Father towards the disobedient and prodigal ? 
Who or what shall open the way, give us strength to 
walk therein, and lead us as with a divine hand to the 
paternal home ? Nature speaks of the Father only in 
broken language. " It tells us of his infinitude by those 
heavens, where whole forests of worlds silently quiver 
here and there, like a small leaf of light. The ocean- 
waves of Time, that roll and solemnly break on the imag- 
ination as we trace the wrecks of departed things upon 
our present globe, declare his eternity. The tranquil 
order and everlasting silence that reign through the 
fields of his volition reveal the scope of his intellect 
and the majesty of his rule." But nowhere clearly 
seen and indisputably can we find what most concerns 
us, and what we most desire to know, — the assurance of 
his pardoning love. The theories of human speculation, 



82 THE ATTRACTION OF THE FATHER. 

likewise, the wisdom of mortal learning, the searchings 
of philosophers and their stammering teaching, agitate, 
but cannot soothe and relieve, the burdened spirit. Our 
own minds also, clouded these many years, so often mis- 
taking shadow for substance, falsehood for truth, so often 
calling evil good and good evil, we dare not trust. 
Whither, then, shall we turn ? To whom shall the soul 
seeking union with its Father go for guidance, for knowl- 
edge, for hope ? There is but one, even he whom the 
Father hath sanctified and sent to be the Saviour of the 
world, Jesus Christ, the friend and redeemer of man and 
God's own chosen Son. He alone can speak with the 
confidence the soul craves, for he dwelt in the bosom of 
the Father, and spake only as the Father gave him utter- 
ance. He alone can reveal the Father, for in him the 
fulness of the Deity dwelt manifestly. He only can 
give rest to the weary and heavy-laden spirit of man, 
for he alone can call forth a mighty power in the human 
breast, kindle in us a celestial flame, breathe into us an in- 
extinguishable hope, lay within us the foundation of an im- 
movable peace, and lift us to God. This is his mission, 
the sacred purpose of his life. This is the meaning of 
that mercy which sent Jesus to be u God with us." He 
offers to bring us to the Father by showing us the Fa- 
ther, who veiled his glories and appeared in the life of 
his Son. " Whosoever hath seen me hath seen the Fa- 
ther," — a being all love, and mercy, and compassion, 
grieved at the sinfulness of man, and warning, urging, 
inviting him to cast it off*, and rise to penitence, peace, 
and heaven. He not only commands us to love God 
with all our heart and soul, but shows us in himself how 
worthy of our deepest and most sacred affection our 
God is. He not only commands us to follow after 



THE ATTRACTION OF THE FATHER. 83 



righteousness, but shows in himself the beauty of holi- 
ness. He not only commands us to be at one with God, 
reconciled unto Him, but shows in himself the way, and 
the peace ineffable with which that consciousness fills 
the soul in the darkest hour of human experience. 

My friends, do we long for inward peace ? Do we 
thirst for the living God ? Is there a crying out of the 
heart for the Father's favor and love ? Then come to 
Christ. I do not use this phrase as mere cant. It may 
be often so used, indeed, but there is a meaning in it 
which the moved soul perceives, and in which it finds re- 
lief. Come to Christ ; not to his words alone, not to 
his teachings simply, not to his system ; but to himself, 
to him, as he lives and moves in the Gospels, as he lived 
and walked in Judea, in power, in tenderness, in undy- 
ing affection, — as he rises before the eye of your most 
sacred imagining. Come to Christ in no formal manner, 
not as to a teacher only, or a cold embodiment of won- 
derful and unapproachable excellence and perfection ; but 
come as to a personal friend, whose voice is music to 
your ear, whose quick sympathy falls sweetly upon your 
often-wearied heart, and whose love is ever open for 
your repose and refreshment. Come to Christ ; sit at 
his feet, look up into his countenance, as he speaks of 
the Father's bounty and mercy, as he dries the widow's 
tears, heals the crippled frame, or shelters the repenting 
sinner from the rebukes and scorn of the Pharisee ; drink 
in as fast as you realize it, drink in his pure spirit ; look 
upon him, till you are changed into his likeness by the 
very spirit of the Lord. Come to Christ as to a real 
living being, and he will lead you to the Father ; as he 
says, " No man cometh unto the Father but by me." 
Read of him in the Gospel ; meditate upon him till his 



84 THE ATTRACTION OF THE FATHER. 



image be stamped upon your memories ; stand by him 
in all life's emergencies ; come to the table of his re- 
membrance where most distinctly he stands before the 
eye of our contemplation ; and you shall feel his last 
prayer accomplishing itself in you, — u Neither prayl 
for these alone, but for them also which shall believe on 
me through their word ; that they all may be one ; as 
thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may 
be one in us." 

I have spoken only to those who feel this attractive 
voice of the Father, and through it speaking in their 
hearts earnestly desire union and reconciliation with 
their God. Such only is it that Christ says can come 
to him. We need not marvel, then, that so few have 
chosen him as their way, truth, and life, since few feel 
and cherish this drawing of the Father. How can one 
be saved till he seeks salvation ? How can one come 
to a being of purity and love, whose heart is satisfied 
with the world, and has no sympathy with heavenly and 
eternal realities ? To such Christ is as if he were not, 
God but a distant image, heaven but a dream, and eter- 
nity a fiction. May the Lord have mercy upon such, 
and by his holy spirit excite within them a thirst for the 
living waters which flow for ever from the full heart of 
Jesus Christ ! 



SERMON VIII. 



BY GEORGE W. BRIGGS. 



FAITH THE CHILD OF LIFE. 

lord, i believe; help thou mine unbelief. — Mark ix. 24. 

It is not infrequent to meet a spiritual condition 
which laments, and sometimes trembles, on account of 
the weakness of its faith in what men generally term 
important, possibly in what they deem vital, spiritual 
truths. It is not a settled disbelief to which I refer. 
It is a condition far less sad. Yet, in one respect, 
perhaps, it may be a deeper trial to the heart. For 
I suppose that a fixed disbelief must bring a compara- 
tive quiet to the soul, however sad it may be to con- 
template it. Man then sits down, freed from the tor- 
tures of doubt, in the desolate home he has made for 
himself. I refer to a state which cannot yet find any 
unquestioned opinions wherein it can rest as its home. 
It harbours no wish to disbelieve. Nay, it may shun the 
desolation of actual unbelief, with deep revoltings of 
heart, with shudderings of the soul. But a multitude 
of questionings continually intrude themselves, to dis- 
turb and unsettle what seem most like clear and bright 
convictions. There is a longing for a certainty not 
yet found. The heart longs for an abiding faith in the 
8 



86 



FAITH THE CHILD OF LIFE. 



Father, for instance, like the steady light of day. Yet 
only at intervals does that faith come with perfect clear- 
ness, in occasional flashes, making the frequent uncer- 
tainty seem doubly dark. The soul longs for that un- 
questioning, childlike faith in prayer, which can ask 
without one wavering thought. But the speculations 
of a maturer mind, that has outgrown infant ignorance, 
but has not ascended to an angelic trust, check its sup- 
plications. They go into the closet where it seeks to 
commune with God, until that becomes a place of dis- 
tracting thought, and not of confiding prayer. And 
how are the buddings of more fervent feeling often 
sadly blasted by these chilling doubts ! The heart can- 
not repose in the convictions wherein many trust, and 
yet it cannot rest while those convictions are absent. 
It cannot go where it would, and it cannot stay where 
it is. It cannot find a home, and yet it is only tor- 
mented by its wanderings. When the father was asked 
concerning his faith, in the passage whence the text is 
taken, he could not answer Jesus with an unhesitating, 
whole-hearted declaration of confidence. He could 
only say, in doubtfulness of spirit, and with gushing 
tears, " Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief." 
It is precisely thus with many hearts. It is not belief, 
neither is it unbelief, in which they live. Rather is it a 
strange mixture of the two, which they must acknowl- 
edge whenever their spiritual state is perfectly dis- 
closed. They affirm and they doubt. They accept 
and they question. And in many hours, could they 
hope for a blessed relief, w T e doubt not that such hearts 
would cry out with tears, u Lord, I believe ; help thou 
mine unbelief." 

Two questions are always suggested by all such con- 



FAITH THE CHILD OF LIFE. 



87 



fessions. First, how can our weak and often wavering 
faith be changed into those clear convictions which we 
desire ? And, next, the question which naturally grows 
out of the discussion of this first inquiry, — What is that 
faith which is made so indispensable in the teachings of 
the Scripture ? 

"Help thou mine unbelief." I suppose it maybe 
affirmed, as a general principle, that there is no certain 
cure for any questionings disturbing our faith, except 
in a growth of our whole being. The difficulties, the 
doubts, whatever they may be, are incidental to the 
present spiritual condition. They belong to that stage 
of progress in which we are standing. We cannot es- 
cape .what belongs to this condition, while we remain 
within it. The soul can never escape childish weakness 
while it remains a child. We must gain some new 
power to overcome the difficulties which our present 
strength cannot successfully meet. We must attain a 
higher point of view, to see beyond the limits that now 
bound our prospect. Strive as we may, we cannot lift 
ourselves above ourselves. In his vain endeavours to re- 
move the doubts attending his present stage of progress, 
man often seems like one who is lingering in the depths of 
a valley, but is striving, nevertheless, to look beyond the 
hill directly before his face. When we ascend some 
more commanding height, this once towering difficulty 
will be beneath our feet. The path of inward peace 
and of true philosophy is to leave the doubts which 
we cannot at present solve, in absolute devotion to the 
truth which is clear.. Let the whole mind and heart 
oe filled with the light beaming from that, when sought 
with a single eye, and the soul can see through what- 
ever may have previously been an impenetrable cloud. 



88 



FAITH THE CHILD OF LIFE. 



Does speculation ever intrude, for instance, where 
no speculations should enter, — does it intrude into 
the place of prayer, asking hoio God can answer, till 
devotion is banished by perplexing reasonings concern- 
ing natural laws, and an unchangeable Providence ? 
No speculation can remove the difficulties which it has 
itself created. Hear the instinct, teaching men to pray, 
which breaks out in supplications through all human 
lips when no human help can save, or fills the soul 
with feelings too profound for speech. See the great 
doctrine there distinctly revealed, by the handwriting 
of God, in the deep places of the spirit. And then 
once learn the need of new supplies of grace to make 
these feeble hearts victorious over the temptations in 
their way, — open your eyes to these continual exigen- 
cies from which no human strength can deliver, — and 
the hourly dependence will make you stand in the atti- 
tude of perpetual supplication. Or, else, look up to 
the love of God, — forgetting for the time your fancies 
about his laws, — until the great idea of that love irradi- 
ate your soul. Draw nigh to that until it draw nigh to 
you. Meditate, until the fountains of feeling are un- 
sealed, and they overflow in tears. Muse, till the fire 
burns. And at length, by the resistless power of an 
inward impulse, your souls shall be poured out in aspi- 
ration and in prayer, in a trust more unquestioning and 
absolute than filial love ever knew in any homes of 
earth. Speculate when you have fathomed the depths 
of human dependence, for then you will have learned 
the deep foundations of this instinct to pray in the 
human soul ; or when you have realized the infinity of 
God's love, and are smitten to the heart by convictions 
of his readiness to aid. Speculate then, if you may 



FAITH THE CHILD OF LIFE. 



89 



then desire so to do. The materials for the argument 
will be in your hands, and the power to use them' right- 
ly will then be gained. But cease, cease your specu- 
lations now. 

Do any say, " Help thou_mine unbelief" ? We out- 
grow unbeliefs. There is our help. Thus has expe- 
rience taught every heart, which has been conscious of 
any real mental or moral change. We find ourselves 
looking differently at many things after a lapse of years. 
Childish difficulties have gone. Greater difficulties, pos- 
sibly, may have come. Yet that does not affect the 
principle. Some have gone. We know not always 
how they went. They were not directly removed by 
any process of argument. Still, they have gone. The 
Spirit blew as it listed, in a new breath of life. Every 
thing which gave strength to the mind, or tenderness 
to the heart, brought its aid. All experience, all life, 
have imparted new wisdom and energy to the soul. 
The dews of grace in a thousand evenings thus came 
silently down, and the light of a thousand mornings 
noiselessly entered the breast, in these all-encompassing 
influences of the providence of God. And the result 
is, that, in this general growth of our being, the child- 
ish difficulty is no more here. That once appalling 
cloud has gradually, and almost insensibly, melted into 
light. We know not whence the Spirit cometh, or 
whither it goeth. We cannot track its way. But we 
have heard the sound thereof in this experience of its 
power. 

We outgrow unbeliefs and doubts and fears by cling- 
ing to what we do believe, and thus ascending to a no- 
bler life. No other deliverance can be. There are 
numberless illustrations of this principle, numberless as 
8* 



90 FAITH THE CHILD OF LIFE. 

human weaknesses and human fears. Does the shadow 
of death fall heavily upon your heart ? You cannot 
argue down that shuddering. The spectre now alarm- 
ing you will not look less frightful, while you continue 
to gaze upon it with a trembling soul. Enter into life, 
bright, earnest, glorious life, — the life of immortal love, 
of glorious trust, of godlike affections which are not 
born to die, — and lo ! the grave receives a transfigura- 
tion in your eyes. And the messenger that calls us 
to the Father's arms is the Angel of Love, and not 
the King of Terrors. The truly living and believing 
soul sees across the valley of the shadow of death, and 
begins to learn the meaning of that sublime word of 
Jesus, — " Whosoever liveth, and believeth in me, shall 
never die." This frequent impatience with ourselves, 
or with the world, because a troubling doubt of some 
great truth cannot be directly overcome, or a bright 
view, which earnest souls may have uttered, cannot be 
at once accepted, is a miserable short-sightedness. This 
is sad, doubtless. But impatience will not help it. 
Can you command yourself into that better faith ? Can 
you storm the world into a higher thought, or a purer 
love ? These things cannot be forced upon the souL 
They grow out of it. The heart will never give an- 
gelic feelings a home until it become endued with an 
angelic nature. The kingdom of God cometh not with 
storms. It is the peaceful unfolding of ever-new and 
ever-purer thoughts within you. Men say that the 
Christian spirit, in its highest form, can never seize the 
weapons of war. Certainly, were men like Jesus, they 
could die, but could never fight. Meek suffering of 
injury is the sword of victory in the Redeemer's king- 
dom. Never let the direct pleading for this vital Chris- 



FAITH THE CHILD OF LIFE. 



91 



tian doctrine cease to be heard from Christian men. 
And yet there is an immeasurably greater work to be 
done, to establish this reign of peace, than simply to 
repeat this truth, even in most fervent words, in the ear 
of the world. The entire heart of Christendom is to 
be more deeply Christianized, by every thing which 
has power to exalt or ennoble it. If you will gain this 
particular end, you must not forget that more comprehen- 
sive aim. Then shall the world's unbelief be banished 
in respect to this great truth of the Saviour's teaching. 
War shall be outgrown, as other wide-spreading crimes 
have been outgrown before. The true comprehension 
of the Redeemer's love shall equally take away the 
causes of provocation and the spirit of violent re- 
sistance ; and the prophesied peace shall come over 
the world, like the dawning of the morning. All these 
special unbeliefs can only be removed by the incoming 
of a nobler life. 

Here is a consideration most needful to be uttered 
at the present hour. The time is more distinguished, 
perhaps, for activity of speculation, than for lowly com- 
munion with God in the silent retreats of prayer. We 
have been calling up new difficulties in ceaseless thought, 
while we have not so constantly been gaining a diviner 
life to meet these myriad questionings. The agitations 
of. doubt concerning the holiest things have sadly shak- 
en many souls. There will be no deliverance till these 
speculations are partially stilled, and the heart waketh. 
These demons of doubt can only be driven out by 
prayer and fasting. The secret closets of meditation, 
so long deserted in the general tendency of the time, 
must be opened again, to be trodden by reverent feet. 
The mind wakes, while the heart sleeps, and we are 



92 



FAITH THE CHILD OF LIFE. 



like the disciples in the ship when Jesus slumbered, 
with threatening waves and pelting winds beating upon 
our fearful souls. Nothing, save the waking of the 
spirit of the Master, can make the tumult still, and bring 
us to the firm land whither we would go. The holy 
flame of love in the heart shall illuminate the under- 
standing. Would I know Jesus aright ? I am con- 
tent to pause in my speculations, till I can put my hand, 
as into the print of the nails and the spear, in some 
overwhelming convictions of his love. And I will ac 
cept what the heart says, when it cries out in its fervor, 
"My Lord and my God!" as a better faith than my 
argument alone can fashion. Do I desire to know 
God ? I remember that glorious word, " The pure 
in heart shall see Him." The answer to many of my 
inquiries concerning his purposes and ways will be 
found in the lowliness, and yet in the exaltation, of a 
deeper devotion. I must rise above the mists that 
blind me, on the strong wing of prayer. It is the 
Comforter that leadeth into all truth. 

The growth of our whole inward being, we say, deliv- 
ers us from these unbeliefs. And here we are led to the 
second question which we proposed. Here we per- 
ceive the nature of that faith which Jesus declared to be 
so essential, — the light of life, — the assurance of sal- 
vation. It was not the acceptance of any precise and 
particular conclusions. It was rather the intense de- 
votion of the soul to truths already seen. It was the 
believing spirit, the divine essence of all faith, which 
communed with all it saw of the Master, knowing that 
more of his spirit would bring more of glorious truth. 
There is a distinction between the spirit of unbelief, 
and any questioning of particular conclusions. Some 



FAITH THE CHILD OF LIFE. 



93 



need to remember it for their solace, and all for their 
instruction. We say to any who maybe troubled be- 
cause they cannot accept the conclusions of religious 
minds in all respects : — Be not troubled simply on that 
account. The real cause of disquiet, if any there be, 
lies deeper far. Be not troubled at all for this result, 
if the living, glowing spirit of faith, dwell in you in 
respect to the truths you do accept. Leave these 
questionings, as difficulties you cannot overcome while 
in the state which has given them birth, and follow the 
Lord in his unquestioned and unquestionable command- 
ments. If your doubts be errors, that is the path to 
a better light. u He that followeth me," saith Jesus, 
" shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light 
of life." Do not fear simply because you cannot ac- 
cept a doctrine which others may deem most precious. 
Only fear, when the spirit of faith shall fail. Fear not 
the difficulty which may only exist in the mind. Fear 
that which convicts of want of life in the heart. u He 
that speaks a word against the Son of Man," in his 
mistaken or misguided thought, "may be forgiven." 
But he that u speaketh against the Holy Ghost," he 
that doth not hear and obey the ceaseless pleadings of 
the Holy Spirit in his heart, stands in the fearful peril. 
For the spirit of unbelief, which denies the authority 
of these calls of duty and truth, that are clear as the 
daily light, or which only accepts them in an assent 
that goes no deeper than the lips, can claim no present 
consolation. There may be hope for it still, in the in- 
finitude of the heavenly mercy ; but the fitting present 
call must be the sharp, reproving exhortation to imme- 
diate and radical repentance. 

The distinction which we have made, the sincerely 



94 



FAITH THE CHILD OF LIFE. 



earnest, but sometimes doubting, minds may safely take 
as their solace. But all men need to remember it, in 
their judgment of themselves and others. It shows 
who is, and who is not, the real unbeliever, in the 
deepest sense of that word. I sometimes find the 
spirit of faith in those who deny conclusions which to 
me are vital truth. I see there a Christ-like fidelity 
to truth, which consecrates every feeling and every 
faculty as a living sacrifice upon its altar. And I 
sometimes see the real spirit of unbelief in those who 
never question customary opinions ; who are shocked 
at the doubts of other men ; but who have never in- 
wardly known the power of the truths they echo with 
their lips. The vital unbelief, that which is fatal to 
the soul, may frequently nestle closely to the altar, 
deeming itself, in its terrible mistake, truly believing. 
Where must it go when the Lord comes to see who is 
really robed in a wedding garment ? Doubtless there 
is a vast importance attaching to our views of religious 
truth. There may be perilous heresies in respect to 
them. Still, we never forget the simple distinction 
we have presented. We must never forget that the 
only damning unbelief is that which leaves the heart 
impure. 

There is a spiritual condition, then, to which it may 
be proper to say, — Be content amid the difficulties and 
doubts often sadly trying you ; as we say to the child, — 
Be patient amid the want of apprehension pertaining 
to childish years. The light of God's countenance 
shall gradually beam out upon your advancing heart. 
Yet I cannot think there will be any real difficulty in 
overcoming these perplexing questionings, if the spirit 
of faith be living in us. However high or however 



FAITH THE CHILD OF LIFE. 



95 



low we may be standing in the scale of spiritual knowl- 
edge, the counsel is always the same. Surrender the 
heart to the truth already seen, and you shall see the 
more. Let a man begin with the bare idea of right, 
of duty, as declared in any whisper of his conscience, — 
with that first, that eternal fact, from which none can 
escape. With new clearness, with a more command- 
ing majesty, as he meditates, it will declare its com- 
mands in the manifold details of life, until it shall seem 
to unfold the great law of God in the height and the 
depth of its application. Wrapped in the truths which 
conscience must enforce, when thus obeyed, are the 
eternal commands of Heaven's law ; its calls to justice 
and love ; its dread remonstrances against the sins of 
life and heart ; the revelations of a tribunal of judgment, 
with its righteous sentences of blessing or of doom. In 
this single fact of our nature the finger of God in- 
scribed a law within the soul, which shall appear in 
letters of light, as we gaze upon it, to guide us in our 
pathway, or glow into a consuming fire, as the visita- 
tion of disobedience. Man need not be left to grope 
darkly on through his appointed pilgrimage. The seeds 
of noblest truths are thickly scattered round him, which 
may become trees of life through a patient and faith- 
ful husbandry. Do you complain of a want of clear- 
ness in your convictions ? Are there any questionings 
concerning Jesus and his teachings that ever disturb ? 
Go to what you see. Go to that sacred cross. No 
cloud obscures the revelations there. Read the bright 
teaching given there of God's infinite benignity in that 
unexhausted compassion, dropping tears of pity upon 
murderous hands, — in that love gladly dying to save 
Read the great commandment to fidelity, which is writ- 



96 



FAITH THE CHILD OF LIFE. 



ten there, in that calm steadfastness of soul, when mock- 
ings, and revilings, and the hour of crucifying came. 
Read that lesson of a divine philanthropy, which suffer- 
ed, not for friends, but for foes ; which went up wil- 
lingly to the sacrifice, finding joy in its pains, because 
it must become the ministry of blessing to otherwise 
ruined souls. Do you seek spiritual light ? The love 
of God breaks forth there, as in visible manifestations, 
to still all human anxieties and foolish fears. The 
streams of spiritual light and life flow down thence 
into all earnestly gazing and admiring hearts, freely as 
the blood of the sacrifice was poured out for the sin- 
ning world. And in your kindling love you will find 
the incoming of a glorious faith, which shall teach you 
to sing the song of praise to the Lamb, which the 
Church Triumphant sings ; the song of blessing to him 
who taketh away the sins of men. Light shall come, 
if the spirit of faith be in you which does the com- 
mandments, and thus learns of the doctrine. Man must 
be always embosomed in a w T orld of spiritual light. 
The Father must be waiting to be gracious, as the 
morning light waits upon his still slumbering eyes, ready 
to bless him whenever he will receive the blessing. 
Lift up thine eyes and see ; and thy whole heart, like 
thy whole body, shall be full of light. 



SERMON IX. 



SY ABIEL A. LIVER MORE. 



THE ADAPTATION OF CHRISTIANITY. 

THEN SIMON PETER ANSWERED HIM, LORD, TO WHOM SHALL WE 
GO? THOU HAST THE- WORDS OF ETERNAL LIFE. — John vi. 68. 

The character of Simon Peter exhibits the excellences 
and the defects of an impulsive nature. Quick to feel 
and bold to express the true and the noble, but irreso- 
lute in their maintenance in the moment of pressing dan- 
ger, he shows us how fascinating, but how perilous, is 
the gift of so generous, but so wavering, a mind. In the 
words of the text, he darts up in a flame of grand senti- 
ment, of indignant remonstrance, as if it were possible 
for them to resort elsewhere for such a life of wisdom 
and love as Jesus was daily pouring into their souls. 
And the fact, that he afterwards swerved and fell from 
this spiritual loyalty to Christ, can of course vitiate in 
no degree what he said in his best moments. Truth 
is truth, though we cannot always be as faithful to it in 
the wear and tear of daily struggle, as we are earnest in 
its expression in the rapt hour of meditation or social 
intercourse. Wisdom is justified of her children, not- 
withstanding their inconsistencies. We gladly accept 
9 



98 



THE ADAPTATION OF CHRISTIANITY. 



the words of nobleness from him who, at other and 
darker times, denied his Master, or dissembled the prin- 
ciples of his unlimited Gospel in compliance with Jew- 
ish prejudices. The errors of the Apostles cannot dim 
the glory of truth, nor falsify the religion of Christ. Its 
spirit and power, incarnated in him who was without sin, 
were also reflected through them and from them who 
were his companions from the beginning, and whose tes- 
timony stands, and will stand for ever, despite the incre- 
dulity of Thomas, the faltering of Peter, and the betrayal 
of Judas. 

"Lord, to whom shall we go ? thou hast the words 
of eternal life." All sentences of wisdom are valua- 
ble, not merely for what they declare, but also for 
what they suggest ; — for the state of mind in which 
they grew up in their author, and which underlies his 
positive and uttered thought, and for the kindred state 
of mind which they originate in the reader, beyond the 
definite reproduction of the same ideas. This is emi- 
nently true of the teachings of the Scriptures in gen- 
eral, and of those of Jesus in particular. They are 
instinct with whole clusters of thought and emotion not 
directly stated. They touch by analogies and associa- 
tions great circles of sentiment. They are generaliza- 
tions of truth, that often condense in one strong line 
whole lifetimes of experience, whole immortalities of 
aspiration. " Blessed are the pure in heart, for they 
shall see God," takes us out of time into the widest 
possibilities of eternity. " He that loveth is born of 
God," begins with us in our homes of affection, and 
leads us forth to universal philanthropy, and to the ever- 
lasting, widening, deepening growth of the spirit in its 
true life with God and its fellow-beings, when time is no 
more, and earth is a forgotten dream of our childhood. 



THE ADAPTATION OF CHRISTIANITY. 



99 



Thus the state of mind from which the Apostle 
spoke, and which his words naturally suggest to us, 
was the confidence and interest felt in great principles, 
when they are proclaimed by one whom we love. The 
union of the absolute and the relative, the universal and 
the individual in Christ, commanded the enthusiasm of 
Simon Peter. The Master was tenderly and devotedly 
loved, and the disciple was thereby led to listen atten- 
tively to whatever he might say ; — how much more 
when he announced the greatest truths, the very words 
of everlasting life ! " To whom shall we go ? " — to what 
person, to what friend or teacher ? — for to some one we 
must resort by the necessity of our nature ; we cannot 
stand alone, we cannot rest on abstract truth merely, 
we cannot adhere to universal principles simply, unem- 
bodied, unlived, unrealized ; we cling to persons, w T e 
are trained in the concrete, we follow examples ; and 
Jesus was the personal friend, the winning Master, com- 
bining awe and tenderness, majesty and affectionateness. 
When, therefore, he added to these qualifications of the- 
private person the high, broad, and eternal teachings of 
infinite truth, he met the whole want of his disciples and 
of humanity. 

The idea now stated is so obvious that it is often 
overlooked, or so remote that it is not discovered. But 
it is verified in all intellectual and moral progress. The 
attributes of the Deity himself, mighty as they are, show 
themselves to us not in their abstract might and univer- 
sality, but they condescend to human apprehension in the 
works that are made and visible. Infinity stoops to us 
through the finite ; the ideal through the real ; the ever- 
lasting through the temporary. The uses of sky and 
star, of earth and ocean, are not half recognized, until 



100 THE ADAPTATION OF CHRISTIANITY. 



we discern their relation, not only to the dwelling-place, 
feeding, and clothing of man the mortal, but the culture 
of man the immortal, the development of his spirit in 
every direction, of taste and imagination, love and truth, 
power and happiness. Through this growth he be- 
comes a living, sensitive, throbbing soul, a harp fully 
strung and vibrating to the touch of God in nature, and 
giving back in faithful responses the eternal melody of 
the universe. 

We are at school in this life, and we are poor and 
graceless scholars if we are not learning something new 
every day, of fact or principle, of truth or duty. The 
whole frame of the outward creation turns on the pivot 
of man's improvement. And the graceful vicissitude, 
the perpetual fluctuation of all objects, colors, sounds, 
and scenes ; the earth, that has the warmth as of a 
mother's breast ; the living air, that whispers and sings 
of a presence of love and power round about us ; the 
fine spiritual blue that bends over us, with its sparkling 
eyes of watchfulness, and seems to shelter without con- 
fining us ; — what are they all, but God descending from 
his absolute glory to clothe himself in garments by which 
we may see and love him, — the eternal fused in the 
transient, the perfect merged in the finite ? 

We little appreciate, too, how much we are indebted 
for our relative knowledge of God in his works to the still 
more individual expression of that knowledge by other 
minds. Nature and Providence, suggestive as they are 
of the Mighty Spirit that works behind them, are yet 
too high up in the region of the universal to convey their 
powerful meaning, until they have been brought down 
and interpreted by the poet, philosopher, and moralist. 
So palpably is this the case, that with all our present 



THE ADAPTATION OF CHRISTIANITY. 101 



bursting treasuries of thought and sentiment, with all the 
bards to sing, and all the teachers to explain, and all the 
orators to impel us, multitudes in civilized and Christian 
lands are not enlightened or moved, while the wretch- 
ed inhabitants on many a golden shore of paradise, the 
creation all vocal with melody and love, grovel in stu- 
pidity and lust. We need, therefore, not only all the 
works of the Creator, but also the long-accumulated 
commentaries on those works by the wise and good 
geniuses who are sent on such errands of mercy to their 
less gifted, but not unteachable, fellow-beings. So has 
God come very near to us, and articulated to our ears 
the significations of the earth, sun, and seasons, as they 
have been read into' sense and music by the long suc- 
cession of the large and loving spirits who have gone 
before us. They have deciphered Nature, and justified 
Providence. They have brought home to each man's 
heart and hearth some portion of that universal and abso- 
lute truth, which, first dwelling on high in infinite perfec- 
tion, has been shadowed forth in all the wonders and glo- 
ries of this breathing universe, and which has finally been 
dealt out, as men have severally needed and sought it, 
to the endless varieties of condition and character. To 
accomplish this beneficent mission, these chosen light- 
bearers of the world have first been most richly endowed 
with the capacities of comprehending the primal truths, 
the ideas and types of all things, and then most gener- 
ously gifted with enkindling imaginations, great human- 
ity, and intelligent sympathies, to dispense to others their 
own priceless wisdom. Such have been the mighty 
sages of our race ; and into their rich inheritance of 
thought we are all born, as much as we are into the 
realm of Nature or the school of Providence. The 
9 * 



102 THE ADAPTATION OF CHRISTIANITY. 



glorious truths they have taught have filtered through 
all portions of society, and reached the poorest in their 
hovel, and the most ignorant in their darkness. Every 
man is better off in living, doing, and suffering, because 
these sons of light have preceded him on the way-march 
of life, and left behind their footsteps of guidance to the 
better country. Thus has. God become visible and 
intelligible in the world he has made, and in the spirits 
he has animated ; and the Infinite is incarnated in the 
finite. 

But in Jesus Christ there is a yet more perfect union 
of the universal truth with its relative adaptations to the 
wants of mankind. Whilst he was absolutely true in 
the direction of God, he was accessible and attractive 
in the direction of man. And this marvellous fitness is 
implied in the words of Peter. He instinctively ex- 
pressed what divines have since laboriously thought out 
by painful meditation. For while he saw in Jesus the 
loving friend, he beheld in him also the revealer of the 
ultimate truths of spiritual being. And with such a 
combination he might; well despair, if he turned else- 
where, of finding what in our blessed Lord was at once 
so high and so lowly, so divine and so human, so spot- 
lessly pure and so winningly lovely. 

Hence it is, likewise, that w T hen Jesus speaks of him- 
self and his work in the world, we are never conscious 
of any offence or uneasiness, as if any grain of self, or 
vainglory, or personal exaggeration, mingled in the heav- 
enly discourse. We know that / does not stand for 
self-esteem, nor me and mine as terms of narrow and 
jealous possession. He sought, we feel in every word 
and deed, not his own glory, but the glory of God, and 
the good of every human being. What would other- 



THE ADAPTATION OF CHRISTIANITY. 103 



wise have been ambition was in him steadfast adherence 
to duty ; and what would have been pride was self- 
respect to himself, and a dignified appeal to conscience 
in others. 

Hence it is, too, that he is always most practical 
even when most abstract. His annunciation of the 
great spiritual laws of the universe is in no mere cold 
and speculative tone. They are instantly felt to bear on 
the life of men. His truths are motives, and his princi- 
ples means. He depicted no ideal commonwealth, but 
he set . in motion those efficient causes which would 
work out true liberty and peace for every nation on 
earth. It is this bringing down of the fire of heaven 
to warm the firesides of men, this speaking of the words 
of eternal life, of the purest forms of spiritual thought, in 
familiar, practical, but dignified authority, in illustrations 
and parables which men could understand, but never 
exhaust, which make us feel now, what others felt and 
said then, that never man spake like this man. 

Even in elucidating and impressing what Jesus has 
taught, we often feel how soon we run into the specula- 
tive and the visionary, and busy ourselves about the 
distant and the abstruse, without either rising to the 
greatness of simple principles, or reaching directly and 
effectually the hearts and consciences of men. But no 
fact more shows the height and grasp of the intellect of 
this divine being, and his intimate admission into the 
counsels of the Father of spirits, than the joint" sublimity 
and lowliness, the infiniteness and the practical charac- 
ter, of the New Testament. Little children draw from 
it the familiar lessons of duty, while the Miltons and 
Newtons have found it too deep to be sounded by mor- 
tal line. 



104 



THE ADAPTATION OF CHRISTIANITY. 



In all his precepts we witness how truly in accord- 
ance with our nature, how philosophically, in fact, our 
Lord addressed mankind. He did not impose truth on 
the mind so much as call it forth from the mind. In 
inculcating the largest sentiments, he commenced from 
humble beginnings. From the domestic affections he de- 
duced the germs of all religion heavenward, and all mo- 
rality earthward, denominating God our Father, and man 
our brother. He took man in his natural position, with 
all his human and individual feelings about him, and 
from that, by the aid of those very feelings, he led him 
on and up to the absolute truth and the eternal heaven. 

We know, therefore, not by the rules of the schools 
or the maxims of logicians and rhetoricians, though they 
are all good so far as founded in nature, and so far are 
all followed by Jesus, but by the inward satisfaction of 
the heart, that this is the bread of.life. It nourishes us, 
and we grow strong. It feeds the spiritual appetite and 
sustains the divine life. Much reading cannot take the 
charm out of these precious verses ; and much practice 
only endears them the more, while it enshrines them 
more deeply within. As existence deepens into life, 
and life into love, we see continually more and more 
how every want and aspiration of man has been met by 
Christianity. 

We need not undervalue the pleasures of life to en- 
hance the glories of faith. The body has its uses and 
its enjoyments not to be despised. The senses have 
been created by the same skill that endowed the mind. 
We gain nothing in the end by exaggeration. Man was 
made to be happy here. If he know not the art, or will 
not use it here, what right has he to expect the boon 
hereafter. So, too, it is idle to slight the power of 



THE ADAPTATION OF CHRISTIANITY. 105 



intellect, the glory of genius, the might of will, the 
wealth of fancy, and all the miracles and beauties of lit- 
erature and art. They have their place, and it is a 
glorious one. They have their mission to the individual 
and to society, and it is a most beneficent one. 

But when all this is justly conceded, it need not be 
said, were not the mistake daily made, that another and 
higher part of our nature goes uncared for and unsatis- 
fied. For though we feed the palate with Oriental luxu- 
ries, and animate the intellect with the enkindling themes 
of genius, and stir the blood with the mighty passions of 
literature and life, there is still a cry coming up from a 
neglected but royal domain of the mind, that is not, and 
from its inborn nature never can be, appeased, except by 
its own peculiar aliment. The conscience cannot be put 
off with delicious viands or beds of down. The moral 
sentiments cannot feed on fancies, though they may be 
bright as the stars, or on imaginations, though they are 
kindling as the sun. The spiritual aspirations cannot 
find nutriment in learning, however copious ; wit, however 
keen; poetry, however beautiful ; or eloquence, however 
impassioned. They ask for their own supplies, and all 
the riches of the universe are poor beside. 

And when, by hard-wrung experience, the decay of 
many a brilliant structure of youth, the bursting of many 
a gorgeous bubble of hope on the morning stream, we at 
last learn who and what we are, — when the solemn and 
everlasting reality breaks in upon the inward conscious- 
ness, that we are more than bodies to exist, and more 
than minds to think ; that we are, higher and better, 
souls to live, — great is the crisis. It is the moment 
when the command is given, u Let there be light," and 
there is light. But in the pause between chaos and ere- 



106 THE ADAPTATION OF CHRISTIANITY. 



ation, the awakened soul cries out with Peter, u Lord, 
to whom shall we go ? thou hast the words of eternal 
life." Thou canst speak our tempest into calm, our 
confusion into order, our death into life, our darkness 
into light, and our coldness into love. 

I am not now saying that mankind must precisely 
either in this or that way satisfy the hunger and thirst of 
an immortal nature, but the want must be met somehow. 
Whole Edens of delight cannot fill it, whole kingdoms 
of wealth cannot appease it ; all the fame and bravery 
and circumstance of genius, and the trophies of science, 
and the splendors of poetry, and the researches of 
learning, cannot minister to this heartfelt want, and sat- 
isfy it. In one age it may be filled in one way, and in 
another age in another way ; for even the G entiles and 
heathen, not having a law, are a law unto themselves ; 
but the perfected and satisfying regimen of the immortal 
nature is described in the words of the Apostle. The 
poor man who receives it may not eat from a richer 
board, but he will nourish himself upon food that gives, 
indeed, no fleeting strength to these wasting muscles of 
flesh, but power to the eternal faculties of reason, con- 
science, aspiration, and love. He may be no wiser in 
history, nor more conversant with art and literature, but 
he will, through his Redeemer, have ascended to that 
primal source of beauty and truth and sentiment, from 
which all the boasted wealth of galleries and libraries, of 
Parthenons and Vaticans, is but a broken reflection, a 
dim, discolored ray, compared with that mighty primal 
sun whence they have all proceeded, and whither they 
all return. Through Jesus he rises to God, and spirit 
answers to spirit, and being unites with being. 

With so much depending, with our higher life at 



THE ADAPTATION OF CHRISTIANITY. 107 



stake, we cannot lightly pass by any means to further 
this all-essential end. We must not slight any filament 
of attraction that leads us on and up, and attaches us to 
the sun and centre of all good, and yields the fruition 
of our purest yearnings and spiritual desires. 

And in the means provided in the Church of Christ, 
in the simple emblems of faith and the ritual of devotion, 
we enter into wide and ennobling communion, not only 
with him who is our exalted Head, but into fellowship 
of soul with good men, living and dead, of all times and 
all nations and all beliefs. The hoary bond of centu- 
ries is upon us ; the ties of ages link us to virtue and 
heaven. 

One may say, " I am not affected ; it profits me 
not ; it has not to me the quickening of life and the 
inspiration of holiness." But it is very marvellous if it 
have not a divine efficacy ; if it stir not unwonted emo- 
tions, and pervade not the mind with a breath and odor 
from another sphere than the careful and troubled earth. 
It must be a peculiar organization that can pass unmoved 
and unimproved through scenes of the ancient and the 
divine, — a crucified Saviour, an ascending Redeemer, 
an opening heaven. And precisely herein, as we have 
sought to show in this whole discourse, is the consum- 
mation and perfect excellence of the Christian revela- 
tion, that its Author and Finisher did not neglect the 
practical and familiar while he provided for the universal 
and eternal. Wiser than many of his followers have been, 
he did not discard the power of association and symbol, 
the appeal to sense and sight, the embodiment of the 
infinite in the finite. Because heaven is gloriously spir- 
itual, he did not therefore despise the humble rounds of 
the ladder by which mortals are to climb on high. He 



108 



THE ADAPTATION OF CHRISTIANITY. 



did not rest all on abstract principles, however potent. 
He paid deference to the visible and customary. He 
recognized the force of the outward. He associated 
even with an ordinary event illustrious meanings. He 
bound his disciples by no awful oath, but by gentle sym- 
pathies, and endeared memories, and glorified hopes. 
He teaches us the simplicity and naturalness of his re- 
ligion by no marvellous and unusual rites, no fearful cer- 
emonies, but by the ordinary language of human friend- 
ship, and by the participation of food. He has thus 
met the wants of the intellect, the senses, the heart, the 
whole Christian man. Here is no doubt, no dread. All 
is affectionate and significant. Blessed memories wait 
on the occasion, glorious hopes illumine the future. A 
beloved and suffering Master, fond but wavering disci- 
ples, the long line of the saintly dead, the populous 
heaven of the just made perfect, the reunion of the lost, 
the final gathering, and the blessed abode, where the dim 
hopes of this world are swallowed up in the unclouded 
brightness of eternal realities, — all these gather around, 
as holy angels of the New Covenant, to hallow the 
Lord's Supper to a Christian imagination, and endear it 
to a Christian heart. 



SERMON X 



BY JASON WHITMAN. 



THE GOSPEL SUITED TO HUMAN WEAKNESS. 

A BRUISED REED SHALL HE NOT BREAK, AND SMOKING FLAX SHALL 
HE NOT QUENCH, TILL HE SEND FORTH JUDGMENT UNTO VICTO- 
RY. — Matthew xii. 20. 

Have you never, my friends, looked upon the reed, 
or the slender rush, as, in its most vigorous and flour- 
ishing condition, it waves with the slightest breath of 
air, and seems a fit emblem of ever-yielding weakness ? 
Have you not regarded it as a vegetable production, 
which, for want of strength of fibre and firmness of tex- 
ture, may be carelessly thrown aside as utterly useless ? 
Nay, further, have you not seen this frail and appar- 
ently useless thing beaten and bruised, and have you not 
felt that now, at least, it is utterly worthless, and that 
any thought of converting it to a useful purpose is vain 
and hopeless, — that it may as well be at once broken 
in sunder and left to be the sport of the winds ? But to 
apply the lesson. Have you not, at times, looked upon 
a fellow-man who has become the sport of temptation 
and the slave of sin ? Have you not seen him forming 
good resolutions and then forgetting them, wishing and 
praying to be delivered from the power of sin, and 
10 



110 THE GOSPEL SUITED TO HUMAN WEAKNESS.* 

straightway yielding to its allurements and falling a vic- 
tim to sinful indulgences ? And when you have thought 
of his ever-yielding weakness, of his being borne about 
by every breath of outward influence, and carried away 
by the slightest temptation, have you not felt that there 
was so little of moral firmness in his nature that there 
was no firm ground of hope, no real encouragement to 
exertion, for his rescue ? And when you have seen him 
bowed down under a sense of his own sinfulness, truly 
penitent and contrite, have you not felt that still there 
was no hope, no just ground of confidence, so utterly 
destitute has he appeared of all moral strength ? Have 
you not expected that the pure and spotless Jesus, — 
so distinguished for his own devotion to duty, for his 
strength of moral principle, for his firmness of moral 
purpose, for his unconquerable resolution in withstanding 
temptation and avoiding sin, and so well able to pene- 
trate the inmost recesses of the very soul of man, — 
have you not expected, nay, almost believed, that the 
pure and spotless Jesus would pass him by in neglect, 
would leave him to himself, to be not merely bruised, 
but broken and destroyed ? Such might, perhaps, have 
been the feelings of man, and such his treatment towards 
his brother-man. Such, I say, might have been the feel- 
ings of man, buoyed up by a false estimate of the cor- 
rectness of his own conduct and of the strength of 
his own principles, towards a fellow-man, bowed down 
under sorrow for past sin and a consciousness of his 
own weakness. But such were not the feelings of him 
who spake as never man spake, such is not his treat- 
ment of the broken-hearted and contrite sinner. You 
see him taking the bruised reed tenderly in his hand, 
carefully binding it up and training it by the side of 



THE GOSPEL SUITED TO HUMAN WEAKNESS. Ill 



some firm support, until it shall have gained strength 
to stand by itself. You see him taking the frail and 
yielding, but contrite, sinner by the hand, whispering 
in his ear the word of encouragement, kindly cherishing 
the faintest virtuous wish, the feeblest holy desire, assur- 
ing him of God's willingness to forgive, and promising 
those spiritual influences of which he now so deeply 
feels his need. And thus he perseveres in his course 
of kindness, until he has established the power of Gos- 
pel truth over the soul, and fixed firmly the principles 
of religion in the heart, yea, even until Gospel truth and 
religious principles have become victorious over every 
sinful propensity, over every moral weakness, over 
every spiritual enemy. u The bruised reed shall he not 
break, till he send forth judgment unto victory." 

Again, have you not looked upon the lamp whose 
light you had hoped to enjoy, the lamp which has burned 
brightly for a while until the oil has been consumed ? 
Have you not seen its feeble and flickering flame, now 
flashing up with momentary brightness, and now dying 
away into almost total darkness, with no signs of life 
save the offensive smoke that hovers over it ? And, 
as your eyes have been pained by this faint and chang- 
ing light, have you not been prompted to extinguish it 
utterly and at once ? So, too, I may ask if you have 
not at times looked upon the professed follower of Jesus, 
upon one who has walked worthy of his vocation, the 
light of whose Christian life has burned brightly, the 
influence of whose Christian example has been sensibly 
and widely felt, — have you not looked upon such a one, 
as he has fallen from his first love, become engrossed in 
worldly pursuits, forgetting the high calling whereby he 
is called ? Have you not seen his Christian graces 



112 THE GOSPEL SUITED TO HUMAN WEAKNESS. 



beginning to languish, becoming fainter and fainter, and 
at last almost dying away from your view ? It may be 
that at some religious meeting, in some moment of re- 
ligious interest, they burst forth and blaze brightly for a 
time, and then again, amid the cares and temptations of 
business and society, they sink away and almost disap- 
pear. And have you not, as you have seen this, felt 
that he was unworthy of his privileges and his profession, 
and that he deserved to be cut off at once ? Have you 
not feared, and almost expected, that the all-perfect 
Jehovah, that the pure and spotless Jesus, would regard 
such a one only as a cumberer of the ground, and strike 
his name from the book of their remembrance ? Such, 
perhaps, would have been the course of harsh-judging 
man, but such was not the course of him who came from 
heaven. You see him kindly and carefully protecting 
the flickering flame from the blasts around, which threat- 
en to extinguish it, gently fanning it into greater strength 
and brightness, and generously filling the lamp with the 
oil which is to afford it nourishment and support. You 
see him kindly taking by the hand those whose Christian 
graces are beginning to languish, or seem just about to 
expire. He calls them back, not in a voice of angry 
thunder, but in the sweet tones of affectionate love. 
He encourages their fainting hopes, he cherishes their 
good feelings and holy desires, he fans the flame of 
devotion in their hearts, until it warms the whole man, 
and then he supplies them with the oil of divine grace, 
that so the life of piety may be sustained, and the power 
of religion may go on from conquering to conquer. 
"The smoking flax will he not quench, till he send 
forth judgment unto victory." I have dwelt, my friends, 
at some length upon these introductory remarks, because 



THE GOSPEL SUITED TO HUMAN WEAKNESS. 113 

I have wished, by bringing up to the mind's eye the 
figure of the text, in connection with the instruction it 
was intended to convey, to present more distinctly the 
beauty of the passage. To me this is one of the most 
interesting of the many touching passages in which the 
sacred Scriptures abound, and one which presents to the 
thoughts a peculiarly endearing characteristic of our re- 
ligion. And in the further remarks which I shall offer T 
shall endeavour to point out the adaptation of the Gospel 
to man as a weak, frail, erring being. 

Perhaps we shall the better understand and the more 
fully appreciate this adaptation of our religion, if we 
direct our attention to some one individual, and follow 
him through all the various steps of his religious experi- 
ence. Here, then, we will suppose, is one who has for 
years been indifferent to the subject of religion. He 
has listened, it is true, to its instructions, has maintained 
a regard for its institutions, and at times, when he has 
met with truly good and devout men, he has felt a deep 
respect* for its influences upon the heart and the life, 
But it has not been his object to become himself per- 
sonally religious, in feeling, in principle, in purpose, and 
in character. At length he is visited with sickness, he 
loses a friend, or he listens to some arousing discourse. 
By these, or by some other similar circumstances, his 
thoughts are turned more particularly to the subject of 
his own religious condition. As he dwells upon the 
subject in thought, his feelings are awakened. He sees 
as he has never seen before his obligations to God, ob- 
ligations to devote time, talents, wealth, influence, — all 
that he has, all that he is, — to the service of God, by 
regulating all in accordance with the principles of the 
Gospel, by devoting all to the good of man. One of his* 
10* 



114 THE GOSPEL SUITED TO HUMAN WEAKNESS. 

first thoughts is, I have indeed sinned against God ; not 
that I have been guilty of gross vices, but that I have not 
consecrated my affections to him, have not loved him 
with the whole heart, have not served him with a single 
purpose. You may attempt to soothe his feelings and 
assuage his anxiety, by reminding him of his past correct 
deportment. It is in vain. He now sees the law of 
God as he has never seen it before, requiring inward 
purity, and expressing God's love. That love of the 
Father appears to him as it has never appeared to him 
before, in all its length and breadth, and as requiring the 
devotion of the affections, the principles, the purposes, 
the life. He feels that, with all his correctness of out- 
ward conduct, he has been living for self and for time, 
not for the good of others, not to the glory of God, 
not for the development and training of his own soul. 
And he will tell you that the largest share of his affec- 
tions has been devoted to earth, — that he has previ- 
ously experienced only an occasional passing thought of 
heaven, a fleeting desire to become holy, a momentary 
glance at Divine goodness ; and these fall short, very 
far short, of the requisitions of the Gospel. He is ready 
to cry out, " Can God forgive one who has so far for- 
gotten, disregarded, disobeyed, his commands ? " What 
shall be done to meet this state of mind, to allay this 
anxiety, and give peace and happiness ? The Gospel 
furnishes the adapted remedy. It assures the anxious 
one that God is love, that he is ever desirous of mani- 
festing his kindness and his mercy, and that he is only 
waiting to be gracious, until the soul, by its earnest 
desires of his grace, is in a fit state to receive and appre- 
ciate its holy and purifying influences. It brings up be- 
fore him the prodigal son, as, after having wasted his sub- 



THE GOSPEL SUITED TO HUMAN WEAKNESS. 115 

stance in riotous living, he approaches his father's house 
with trembling steps and a misgiving heart. It points 
out the venerable form of that father, as he totters forth 
in all the feebleness of age, supported only by the 
strength of his love, and seizes by the hand his long- 
lost son, draws him to his bosom, and welcomes him 
home. It pictures to him the woman taken in crime 
and brought to Jesus, and points out that moral mani- 
festation of Deity, as he says, in accents of kind forgive- 
ness, " Go, and sin no more." It represents the holy 
Jesus in the midst of his persecutors, of those who after- 
wards became his murderers, as he looks upon the fickle 
Peter, who had denied him with an oath, with a counte- 
nance so beaming with love as to become a severe, 
though silent, rebuke. It holds up to his view that same 
pure and spotless Jesus, as he hangs upon the cross, all 
in agony and torture, and when you are expecting to 
hear only groans of anguish, or imprecations of vengeance 
upon those who have placed him there, you are aston- 
ished and overwhelmed with those few simple, touching 
words, — " Father, forgive them, for they know not what 
they do." By these representations the trembling din- 
ner is encouraged to hope for pardon, and is prompted 
to return to God. And is there not, in all this, a pecu- 
liar adaptation to one in a state of religious anxiety ? To 
such a one I would come, as a herald of the Gospel, and 
say, you need have no fears that your Father in heaven 
will be unwilling to forgive you. He is ever ready to 
grant his pardoning mercy, and is only waiting to be 
asked. His arms of parental love are ever open to 
receive you ; he is only waiting for you to approach 
him. And if you think yourself unworthy to approach 
his throne, remember that you do not approach it alone, 



116 THE GOSPEL SUITED TO HUMAN WEAKNESS. 



that he who died on earth for your salvation is said to 
live for ever as your intercessor. You may hope, then, 
that your cry, " God be merciful to me a sinner ! " may 
be seconded and supported by the prayer of your as- 
cended Saviour, — u Father, forgive thy sorrowing ser- 
vant, thy penitent handmaid, for they knew not what 
they did." Most surely, then, my friends, is the Gos- 
pel suited to one in a state of religious anxiety. It is 
fitted to cheer and encourage, to inspire hope, strengthen 
resolution, and urge to effort. 

But now this awakened individual begins to distrust 
himself. He says, — " There is no ground to fear that 
God will be unwilling to pardon, but there is ground to 
fear that I have myself become so completely the slave 
of appetite and passion, of temptation and sin, that I 
cannot break away from their influence, throw off their 
chains, and draw near to God in true repentance and 
living faith." He will say, — " I have already resolved 
and re-resolved, once, twice, yea, many times, and then 
have broken my resolutions ; I have no power in myself. 
I see that God is good. But what can I do ? Every 
past attempt to lead a religious life has proved a failure. 
For I have occasionally had my serious thoughts ; I 
have read my Bible, have prayed to my Father in heav- 
en, and resolved to live to his service. But no sooner 
have I done so, than temptations have assailed me 
which were too powerful for me, and I have been over- 
come ; I may as well fold up my hands and sit down in 
patient waiting for the day of the Lord's power." Such 
are the feelings of self-distrust sometimes experienced. 
Where shall we find motives and considerations suited 
to this state of mind ? Every appeal which we can 
make, having reference to the individual's own strength, 



THE GOSPEL SUITED TO HUMAN WEAKNESS, 117 



will be in vain ; for that has been tried and found want- 
ing. But the Gospel enforces its appeal by considera- 
tions adapted to this state of feeling. It exhorts us to 
"work out our own salvation with fear and trembling." 
But where the despairing soul is just beginning to say, 
u This is impossible," it adds, for his encouragement, 
1 4 It is God that worketh in you, both to will and to do 
of his good pleasure." In the spirit of the Gospel, 
then, I would say to him who is filled with self-distrust, 
give yourself up to the spirit of God and to the power 
of Gospel truth. You are, indeed, to watch against 
temptation, to labor in working out your own salvation. 
But then you are to connect with your efforts fervent 
prayers to God for the renewing, the strengthening influ- 
ences of his spirit. And you are encouraged to do this, 
in the strong hope that, if you pray aright, your prayers 
will be answered. For you are told that God is more 
willing to give of the influences of his spirit, than are 
earthly parents to give good things to the children of 
their love. Banish, then, my friend, I would say, all 
self-distrust, as well as all self-reliance ; think of your- 
self only in regard to your efforts, and not in regard to 
your strength or your success. These are from God. 
It is yours to strive. The strength with which you 
strive, and the success which may crown your exertions, 
are from God. And you may rest assured that he 
requires of you nothing but what he will give you 
strength to perform, if you are only faithful in your 
efforts and fervent in your prayers. While, then, you 
strive to improve aright the strength which has already 
been given you, seek and pray for more. While you 
work with fear and trembling, rely upon God to work 
within you. Then may you press forward with cour- 



118 THE GOSPEL SUITED TO HUMAN WEAKNESS. 

age, then may you hope for success, in the cultivation 
of holiness here, as a preparation for everlasting bless- 
edness hereafter. 

And now the individual feels his need of instruction. 
As he looks around him, he sees the Christian commu- 
nity divided into various sects, and filled, too often, with 
bitterness and contention. If he seeks for guidance to 
heaven, one denomination will give one direction, and 
another a different. His mind will be confused with 
hard names and abstruse doctrines, and he will be in 
danger of giving up, in despair, all hope of ever finding 
any clear truth or plain guidance in the way of duty. Here 
you have only to direct him to the Gospel, as the store- 
house containing all the instruction and guidance which 
he may need. There he will find those simple declara- 
tions in regard to God, which are easily understood and 
applied, — that he is our Father, that he is love, that he 
seeks those to worship him who will worship in spirit 
and in truth," and that we are to glorify him on the earth 
by keeping ourselves unspotted from the world, and by 
deeds of kindness and love to our fellow-men. There he 
will find clearly stated those principles which will apply 
to all his intercourse with his fellow-men. I would say, 
then, to every doubting mind, you may go to the Gos- 
pel of Jesus for the practical principles which shall 
become the guide of your life, with perfect confidence 
that you will be directed aright. If you will sincerely, 
faithfully, and prayerfully study the Scriptures of the New 
Testament, in order to know how you ought to live, with . 
a determination to practise according to what you there 
learn, you will be preserved from all hurtful error, and 
guided into all necessary truth. You may, in your 
speculative opinions, agree with this denomination of 



THE GOSPEL SUITED TO HUMAN WEAKNESS. 119 



Christians or with that, or you may differ from them 
all ; still, if you will bring your spirit and your conduct 
into conformity with the practical instructions of the 
Gospel, you will be saved from all dangerous error and 
guided into all needful truth. You may not find there 
instruction which will satisfy your idle curiosity upon 
all points. You will remember that, when our Saviour 
was on earth, there came one to him asking, " Are there 
few that be saved ? " And I would hope that you will 
especially remember the answer which was given, when 
our Saviour did not gratify his idle curiosity, but said, 
<£ Strive thou to enter in at the strait gate." Do you 
feel that you may be in danger of mistaking the force of 
the practical precepts of the Gospel ? There is the 
life of Jesus, an inexhaustible fountain of instruction, a 
living commentary upon his precepts. To that may 
you go to learn, from the manner in w T hich our Saviour 
applied his own principles, what is their real meaning 
and their full force. Does not the Gospel meet our 
wants as erring men ? 

At length the individual is brought to the determina- 
tion to devote himself to the service of God, the deter- 
mination to lead a life of more engagedness in the faith- 
ful discharge of the various duties of his station, a life of 
holiness and of prayer. But as he makes this determi- 
nation, he feels that there will be danger of his forget- 
ting his good resolutions and his holy purposes. He 
feels that in seasons of reflection there will be but lit- 
tle danger, but that there will be seasons of forgetfulness 
and hours of temptation, when he may fall aw T ay from 
his high purposes, his holy resolutions. 

Here the hopes and sanctions of the Gospel find a 
place of operation, and come in to meet a state of mind 



120 THE GOSPEL SUITED TO HUMAN WEAKNESS. 

to which they are well adapted. In the Gospel he is 
taught to regulate his conduct by the unchangeable will 
of the one pure and perfect God. He is encouraged by 
the hopes of eternal joy, and warned by the thought of 
unutterable woe, following in the train of his conduct as 
its natural consequences. These thoughts are not con- 
fined to the transitory scenes of earth ; they relate to the 
future, the spiritual, and the eternal, and are adapted to 
raise one above the earth, its cares and allurements, and 
to lead him to live for eternity. They constitute a fund 
of religious strength not soon exhausted. And just to 
the degree in which they have a hold upon and exert an 
influence over the mind, just to that degree do they 
nerve one to withstand temptation and perform duty. 

But how shall these principles, motives, and sanctions 
be kept vividly before the mind, and made to exert a 
controlling influence over the life ? Jesus did not leave 
his system incomplete ; he knew what was in man, — his 
wants, his weakness, his dangers. And for the very 
purpose of keeping his principles more distinctly before 
the mind, and impressing them more deeply upon the 
heart, he appointed the ordinances of his religion. 
These are the helps which are needed, and which are 
suited, by being addressed to our senses, to our present 
condition and wants. Does the parent feel deeply anx- 
ious for his much-loved offspring, and does that anxiety 
relate to his moral character and spiritual welfare ? The 
Gospel encourages him to take with him his children, 
when he comes to consecrate himself to the service of 
the Lord, that he may dedicate them also to God, in the 
ordinance of baptism, and assures him that by doing 
so he may find himself strengthened for the more faithful 
performance of his parental duties. 



THE GOSPEL SUITED TO HUMAN WEAKNESS. 121 

Then there is the ordinance of the Supper, especially 
intended to assist us in our weakness, especially fitted to 
our condition as frail, as erring and sinful. Show me 
the man that is sinless, and that has that degree of mor- 
al and spiritual strength which may render him certain 
of ever remaining sinless, and he is one who does not 
need the ordinance of the Supper. It was appointed 
because, in our best efforts, we 'are weak and frail, and 
every day liable to sin. Does any one tremble to ap- 
proach, who, with earnest desires after holiness, and hon- 
est purposes of religious obedience, feels himself weak 
and unworthy, let him remember that it is a merciful 
Father and a loving Redeemer he is to approach. Let 
him remember, that, although his good principles are 
weak and frail as the humble reed, it is not the spirit of 
our religion to break the bruised reed ; that, although his 
religious feelings and desires are faint and wavering as the 
smoke of the exhausted and almost expiring lamp, it is 
not the spirit of our religion to quench the smoking flax. 
It is the very object of the Supper to bind up and 
strengthen the bruised reed, to fan the flickering blaze of 
religious feeling, and to fill the soul with the oil of di- 
vine grace. 

The Christian may, with propriety, say, " Do you ask 
why I seat myself at the table of my Master ? " and an- 
swer, "It is because I feel myself to be a weak, frail, 
erring, and sinful creature. I wish to consecrate myself 
to the service of my God, to live while on earth in a 
constant course of preparation for heaven. I feel that it 
is on the principles, motives, and sanctions of the Gospel 
that I must depend for strength to sustain my religious 
efforts. — I have wished to keep these principles, motives, 
and sanctions continually before my mind, and to impress 
11 



122 THE GOSPEL SUITED TO HUMAN WEAKNESS. 



them more and more deeply upon the heart. It is for 
this reason that I approach the table of remembrance, 
with the feeling that I am a sinner, and because I 
feel myself to be so." Nay, more. He may go fur- 
ther, and say, — " Do you tell me that I have been guilty 
of sin and of short-comings in duty since I first seated 
myself at the table of the Lord ? I admit the charge. 
Indeed, it is for that very reason that I rejoice in every 
repeated opportunity of engaging in the observance of 
this ordinance. As I look back I can see, as I reflect I 
can feel, that I have fallen short, that I have transgressed 
and sinned. I am sensible that my religious principles 
are weak, and have not the controlling power which they 
should exert ; that the motives and sanctions of the Gos- 
pel have, at times, become indistinct and confused in 
my mind. I wish, then, to draw near to this table, that I 
may strengthen religious principle, and revive the power 
of Christian motives and sanctions. All this sinfulness 
and unworthiness," may the Christian say, "I am con- 
scious of; under a sense of all this, I am oppressed and 
burdened. But then I remember what is the spirit of 
our religion. I call to mind the words of the prophet, 
as they are quoted by the Evangelist, as descriptive of 
the character of the Gospel. £ The bruised reed shall 
he not break, the smoking flax shall he not quench, un- 
til he send forth judgment unto victory.' I remember 
that the ordinance is the place appointed by our Saviour 
himself, where we are to meet him, and receive at his 
hand all those strengthening influences which we may 
need to cherish our languishing virtues and to perfect our 
Christian characters." He, then, who is honestly striv- 
ing to lead a religious life, may come to the table of re- 
membrance, humble, contrite, penitent, but at the same 



THE GOSPEL SUITED TO HUMAN WEAKNESS. 123 



time rejoicing in his Christian hopes and purposes and 
privileges. He will come, praying for forgiveness for 
all past sin, and, at the same time, giving thanks for an 
ordinance so well adapted, in its nature and influences, 
to our condition as frail, erring, sinful beings. 

There is no one view of the Christian religion which 
has been more touching to my own heart, which has giv- 
en me more consolation, support, and happiness, than this 
of its adaptation to our wants as weak, frail, erring, and 
sinful beings. I have looked upon myself. Here I 
am, created for high and holy purposes, for present holi- 
ness, for future glory, for everlasting blessedness, with 
spiritual capacities, with eternal longings. Here I am, 
too, surrounded with worldly cares, which have often 
drawn away my affections from heavenly things, — with 
temptations and allurements, to which I have often yield- 
ed, — with pollution and sin, of which I have been oc- 
casionally the victim. 1 have compared myself with 
what I ought to have been, with what I am required to 
become, with what I have often resolved to be. Then 
I have turned to my God and my Saviour, to the Divine 
law, and the spirit of our holy religion ; there 1 have 
found all purity and peace and holiness. But, as I 
have looked to my God again, I have found, united with 
his own perfect holiness, infinite mercy for the most 
abandoned sinner, who comes to him with a contrite 
heart. I have looked again at the Saviour, and have 
found that, although without sin himself, he is rilled with 
compassion for sinners. And what compassion was that! 
Not merely the compassion of a few kind words, a few 
isolated acts, but compassion stronger than the love of 
life, — which led him to the cross, and strengthened him 
to bear its tortures. I have looked again at the nature of 



124 THE GOSPEL SUITED TO HUMAN WEAKNESS. 

the Divine law, and found it to be only the expression of 
Divine love. I have looked again at the spirit of our 
holy religion, and have found it fitted to meet my wants 
as a frail, erring, and sinful creature. And thus, when I 
have felt myself to be but feeble and frail, — a bruised 
reed, — when I have felt that the divine life which I had 
hoped was kindled up in my heart was but a feeble, 
nickering, dying flame, I have rejoiced to hear, in the 
words of my text, " A bruised reed shall he not break, 
and smoking flax shall he not quench, till he send forth 
judgment unto victory." I have seen, in our religion, 
no word to console the impenitent or encourage him in 
his sins, but I have found there every thing suited 
to cheer and encourage the truly penitent, contrite, 
humble heart, burdened with a sense of unworthiness, 
and casting itself upon the mercy of God, as made known 
by Christ. And I have felt that it is indeed a blessed 
religion, adapted to purify our hearts on earth, and to 
prepare us for the happiness of heaven. 



SERMON XI. 



BY JAMES W. THOMPSON. 



THE CHRISTIAN EMPIRE. 

AND I APPOINT UNTO YOU A KINGDOM, AS MY FATHER HATH AP- 
POINTED UNTO ME ; THAT YE MAY EAT AND DRINK AT MY TABLE 
IN MY KINGDOM, AND SIT ON THRONES, JUDGING THE TWELVE 

tribes of Israel. — Luke xxii. 29, 30. 

Our Saviour speaks here and in other places of his 
kingdom, — his kingdom. He is, then, a king. Though 
he is invisible, though he has no earthly palace, though 
no' armies bear his standard, though no geographical 
boundaries define the limits of his empire, yet he has a 
real kingdom in the world. Yes, Jesus of Nazareth, 
the carpenter's son, who was born in a stable almost two 
thousand years ago, and who died the death of a male- 
factor at Jerusalem, has been for ages, and is at this mo- 
ment, at the head of the most powerful kingdom this 
earth contains. Thousands and millions of intelligent 
beings, the wisest and best of the children of men, pro- 
fess allegiance to him as a king, love and obey him 
as a king, own no authority that conflicts with his sway, 
toil and pray for the glory of his kingdom, and de- 
vote themselves to the duties of his subjects with as 
much fidelity, as much cheerfulness, as much persever- 
11 * 



126 



THE CHRISTIAN EMPIRE. 



ance, as though every morning they were receiving fresh 
direction and encouragement from his lips. 

Christ, then, has a kingdom. Obviously, it is not like 
other kingdoms that have risen and fallen from time to 
time in the world's great history ; or like those which 
still divide the earth into larger or smaller human sover- 
eignties. It has features of its own, — characteristics 
which belong to no other ; and some of these it may be 
useful for us here briefly to notice. 

The kingdom of Christ is not an outward and visi- 
ble kingdom. It embraces the domain of man's spirit- 
ual life. Its strength is within the soul. Its grand aim 
is to quicken, to enlarge, to exalt, the soul, — to lift it 
higher and higher towards heaven, — to bring it into 
harmony and communion with all that is true, beautiful, 
and good, — to provide for it durable riches and right- 
eousness, — to render its welfare not an ephemeral 
prosperity, fluctuating with the harvests, but sure, deep, 
and everlasting. All its conquests are invisible, — in 
the sphere of the will, of the thoughts, and of the affec- 
tions. 

But it is not so with other kingdoms. Their domin- 
ion is outward and visible. They can exert only an ex- 
ternal sway. They can control only the limbs and the 
actions of their subjects. The springs of action, the 
moral sentiments, they cannot reach. They can take 
the lip's oath of allegiance, but not the heart's. They 
have no power over what is noblest and best in man. 
Their grand aim is to secure to themselves temporal 
prosperitv and aggrandizement, physical strength and 
glory ; leaving to a higher power the work ot con- 
trolling, enriching, and leading onward to its perfection, 
the spiritual life of man. 



THE CHRISTIAN EMPIRE. 



127 



Other kingdoms, moreover, are confined to this world, 
and to definite portions of it. But not so with the king- 
dom of Christ. Christendom is not merely that part 
of the earth where the Christian religion is established. 
It includes all those portions of the universe, visible and 
invisible, where Christians — the true children of God — 
live and worship. What is commonly called the Christian 
world is only a province of the vast kingdom of Jesus. 
" God is gathering together in one all things in him, both 
which are in heaven and which are on earth, even in him J 9 
Our brethren who have finished their course and passed 
into the heavens are still in his kingdom, — in the same 
kingdom of love and holiness with those lowly disciples 
who yet linger in these tabernacles of clay. Only a thin 
veil separates them, — a veil which was transparent to 
the Saviour in the days of his flesh. He saw through 
it. He saw clearly what was the other side of it. He 
surveyed by a glance his whole immense kingdom, what 
was above as well as what is below, — innumerable 
mansions of his Father's house. His subjects, then, 
are all to whom he gives law, all who are governed by 
the principles unfolded in his word and life, all who live 
in the spirit which filled his bosom, all who love God 
and man with his affection ; no matter where they dwell, 
no matter what names they bear, no matter what the 
modes of their worship, no matter what the symbols of 
their faith ; all such belong to the kingdom of Christ, 
and are members of the general assembly and church of 
the First-Born. The follower of Christ here — the good 
man according to the Christian idea of goodness — is as 
truly in his kingdom at this moment as Stephen, and 
Paul, and John. It needs no change of place to dis- 
close to the sojourner on the earth its thrones, princi- 



128 



THE CHRISTIAN EMPIRE. 



palities and powers, but, being a spiritual kingdom, all 
the change required is a change of mind and heart, — 
the regeneration of the soul ; and this may take place 
here as well as hereafter, in the body as well as out 
of it. 

There are two inquiries suggested by the relation of 
men to this kingdom, to which we may now for a few 
moments direct our attention. One has reference to 
the mode of entrance into it, the other to the conditions 
of continuance in it. 

1. How does one enter the kingdom of Christ ? 
What is the living way by which the soul of man passes 
into the eternal realm of the Saviour's power and bless- 
edness ? The Catholic Church answers, " Baptism 
is that way." Other churches give the same answer, 
regarding baptism as a regenerative rite. I will not say 
that ; but I will say to him who asks this question, — 
" We enter the kingdom of the Lord Jesus by that way 
of which baptism is the sacred symbol, — by that re- 
pentance, consecration to duty, inward washing, earnest 
faith, of which baptism is the outward sign and profes- 
sion." There is no other way given among men. 
There is no pass-word by which the door will be open- 
ed, — a mere word, a profession of the lips. None 
can enter simply by enrolling his name on the records 
of a church. None can enter by a substitute, nor in 
virtue of another's merits. None can buy admission 
with gold and frankincense and myrrh. No ; the heart 
must be immersed in the redeeming spirit of Christ, bur- 
ied with him in a spiritual baptism which renounces the 
hidden things of dishonesty, which abandons all false- 
hood, error, and vainglory, which denies passion, and 
which pledges the soul to " whatsoever is true, honest, 



THE CHRISTIAN EMPIRE. 



129 



just, pure, lovely, and of good report," against all temp- 
tation, and notwithstanding any temporary evils which 
such a course may produce. "If any man will come 
after lae,' 3 said the Saviour, " let him deny himself, 
and take up his cross, and follow me." This is the great 
step, — self-renunciation ; withdrawal from all corrupt- 
ing pleasures, and from all unrighteous pursuits, however 
gratifying to present desire ; crucifixion of the affec- 
tions and lusts that paralyze the energies of the heart, 
and grieve the Holy Spirit ; the voluntary and absolute 
relinquishment of all purposes and works, of all imagi- 
nations and hopes, incompatible with the spirit of meek- 
ness and love, — love to man and love to God, — which 
is the sum of all duty. Who is turning his thoughts 
towards the New Jerusalem ? Who stands without, anx- 
ious to enter into the Redeemer's rest ? Who, trem- 
bling and weary under the weight of this life's cares, and 
manifold burdens, and unsolaced woes, sighs for renew- 
ing strength, for Divine encouragement, for the dawning 
of heavenly light upon his soul ? Who, oppressed 
and cast down by a sense of guilt, by the consciousness 
of having abused and perverted his nature, neglected his 
opportunities, resisted admonitions, regarded with indif- 
ference or contempt the entreaties of Christian faithful- 
ness and affection persuading him to a better life, — who, 
thus disquieted, seeks relief, the remission of his sins, 
the light of the Father's countenance, and the comforting 
assurance of his love ? To him there is an open way 
into the kingdom. Let him be baptized with the bap- 
tism of repentance, and self-denial, and a holy spirit, 
and the kingdom of God shall be his. Around him 
there shall be beauty, within him peace. He shall utter- 
ly change his relations with the world ; from being its 
slave he shall become its master, and instead of being 



130 



THE CHRISTIAN" EMPIRE. 



enfee 1 led and worn by its perpetual draughts on his mor- 
al strength, shall be able so to use it as to make it minis- 
ter to his Christian growth and excellence. Blessed is 
he who thus enters the Messiah's kingdom ! 

2. But, in the second place, entrance is not all that is 
necessary. This is but one step towards the attainment of 
the soul's highest good, — an important step, indeed, yet 
but one. No necessity holds him in his new position who 
has once entered the kingdom, and secures to him. in inde- 
feasible possession, the rest of God's people. The Sav- 
iour speaks of those who c; abide in him." Continuance 
is also necessary. What, then, we proceed to ask, are the 
conditions of continuance in Christ's kingdom ? I will 
not say that these are all summed up and expressed in 
the Lord's Supper. But I do say. that they are all 
comprehended in that which the Lord's Supper repre- 
sents. And what is that ? What is it of which the 
Supper is the affecting symbol ? I know you will an- 
swer, it is love. — the love of God to his children here 
below, the love of Christ to us and our brethren of all 
ages, for whom he died, and the love of man to man, 
binding all together in one communion, in the fellowship 
of one spirit. Now it is this love working in the heart, 
by the head, by the hands, by all the instrumentalities 
which it can command, creating and diffusing good, 
opening channels of mercy, visiting the poor, the sick, 
the prisoner, making glad cheerless hearths, repairing 
decayed altars and rearing new temples, spreading 
abroad the light of a Christian example, multiplying the 
sources of human improvement and enjoyment, and lift- 
ing up the soul in calm devotion to heaven, — it is this 
love, I say, operating steadily, burning brightly, that 
keeps the baptized soul true to its King, and binds it in 
eternal loyalty to his government. For love fulfils the law. 



THE CHRISTIAN EMPIRE. 



131 



There is no requirement above or beyond it. The soul 
is made perfect by love, and its union with God estab- 
lished beyond the possibility of disruption. " God is 
love," saith the inspired Scripture, ' ; and he that dwelt 
eth in love dwelietb in God and God in him." " If we 
love one another, God dwelleth in us and his love is per- 
fected in us." Simple and sublime truth ! Yet how 
few are they who recognize it ! how completely has it 
been hid from the eyes of the world ! And in the 
Church how long has it been suffered to lie buried be- 
neath the mass of ceremonial follies and doctrinal errors 
which have been imposed upon believers as the essentials 
of faith and salvation ! But now, in these latter days, 
— let us thank God ! — it is beginning to be understood 
what energy, what might, what majesty, there is in the 
principle of love. This is not a new revelation vouch- 
safed to us, but only the true reading of the old Gospel 
restored. It was preached by Jesus, the Master ; it 
was preached by his apostles ; it was received and lived 
in the primitive Church, when heathen men looked on 
the brotherhood of disciples and said, M See how these 
Christians love one another." But afterwards it dropped 
away and was forgotten. Strange dogmas, dreamy 
speculations, metaphysical subtilties, complicated cere- 
monies, took the place of the doctrine of love, and lit- 
tle was left of Christianity, for a long period, but its name 
and its records. It is not too much to affirm, that we 
are now on the threshold of a new and better era, in 
which the profound truths of the Gospel shall be more 
clearly discerned and more rigidly applied to private dis- 
cipline and social progress ; in which the great law of 
love, illustrated in the life and death of the Son of God, 
shall be acknowledged, obeyed, fulfilled, as in no previ- 
ous period of the world's history ; and in which the hu- 



132 



THE CHRISTIAN EMPIRE. 



man race shall be carried forward with unexampled ra- 
pidity towards that consummation of goodness and glory- 
to which all prophecy looks and all earnest prayer aspires. 
Certainly there are wise men, — watchmen on the tow- 
ers of Zion, — who believe this. Certainly there are fa- 
vorable signs abroad ; — the mists are lifting ; the clouds 
are breaking ; the slumbering earth stirs with the breath 
of a new life ; heavenly voices wake the echoes of old 
chaos and night with the Bethlehem shout, " Glory to 
God! good-will to men ! " — and we will hope. What- 
ever may be the event, we will hope. And whilst we 
hope, we will remember that the grand condition of 
our own continuance in the Messiah's kingdom is love, 
— the labor and the worship of love. Nothing else 
makes sure our redemption. Nothing else is " eternal 
life " in the soul. Only as the heart drinks of the wa- 
ter which Christ gives is it refreshed ; only as it eats 
of the bread that cometh down from heaven is it nour- 
ished. That water is the Divine goodness of which he 
was the channel ; that bread the infinite love which fill- 
ed his soul, irradiated his life, hallowed and crowned his 
death. 

I have spoken briefly of the nature of the Christian 
kingdom, of the way of entering it, and of the grand 
condition of continuance in it. To enter it, you per- 
ceive, is one thing ; to remain in it, another and great- 
er thing. To leave all, at the call of Christ, and follow 
him, is one thing ; to abide in him, united in one senti- 
ment and purpose and life, is another and greater thing. 
But entrance is the first thing. And it must not be 
taken for granted that all who are born in a Christian com- 
munity, all who have been taught in their early days the 
first principles of religion, all who attend the stated ser- 
vices of a Christian congregation, have entered the Chris- 



THE CHRISTIAN EMPIRE, 



133 



tian kingdom. Have they sought and found that spiritual 
baptism which washes away the defilements of the heart, 
and leaves open and fair the image of God in which it 
was created r Have they left off their sins by repent- 
ance ? Have they believed with the heart that Jesus is 
the Christ, the Son of the living God ? Have they felt 
in their souls an urgent desire to be regenerated into his 
likeness, — * : changed from glory to glory as by the spir- 
it of the Lord" ? This is the only way of entrance. 
Xo person goes in bearing the love of his sins with 
him. By a solemn renunciation, he leaves them ail be- 
hind him, knowing that 64 there shall in no wise enter 
into it any thing that defileth, neither whatsoever work- 
eth abomination or maketh a lie ; but they which are 
written in the Lamb's book of life." 

Nor must it be too confidently believed that entrance 
insures continuance. Many, alas ! are they who. by re- 
pentance and faith, — the washing of regeneration. — 
have entered the kingdom of the Son of Man, and vet 
have yielded afterwards to the blandishments of earthly 
pleasure and the influence of old temptations, and gone 
out to live again without the peace of a loyal soul, 
without the comfort of a sincere hope, without the light of 
a Father's countenance. They have gone out, but only 
to perish with hunger. Therefore it is important that 
we should understand how to keep our place in the heav- 
enlv kingdom when we have once gained admission. 
And all Scripture tells us. the life and death of Christ 
assure us, the experience of multitudes who have endur- 
ed unto the end and inherited the promises confirms the 
declaration, that it is the constant exercise of that love, 
— not the idle and luxurious indulgence of the sentiment, 
but the laborious carrying out of the principle, of that 
12 



134 



THE CHRISTIAN EMPIRE. 



love which fulfils the law, and which, in the good it con- 
fers, reflects the benevolence of the Heavenly Father, 
■ — that it is this alone which is the safeguard and guaranty 
of the perseverance and permanence of the saints in the 
kingdom of our Lord. For love, I repeat, is the ele- 
ment in the soul of its eternal life. It is more power- 
ful than all knowledge, and outlives all faith and hope. 
Whatever is once made alive by it abideth for ever. 
When the dazzling splendors of the world so eagerly 
coveted shall be dulled and darkened, when the emblems 
of human power and authority shall lose their significance, 
when thrones and crowns shall be no more, that love 
which begins to burn here in the kingdom of Christ on 
the altar of Christian souls shall be to them as the efful- 
gence of noonday, — perpetual light with boundless joy. 

And that love which insures the soul's continuance in 
the kingdom of Christ is also, let it be remembered, the 
source of all its power. Our Saviour is a king. But 
what gives him authority over men and angels ? What 
is the secret and mighty influence that binds all Christian 
hearts in allegiance to him ? It is not the strength of the 
physical force at his command. It is not the terror of 
his avenging arm. It is not the splendor and magnifi- 
cence of his regal array. Nor is it the awe of his in- 
tellectual greatness. It is none of these ; but it is the 
love that pervaded his soul, that gave to his life a beauty 
such as was never seen before, and crowned his death 
with a divine glory, the lustre of which, so far from be- 
ing diminished by the lapse of time, successive ages 
have only increased by the grateful and admiring remem- 
brance which they have sent back upon it. Yes ; his 
love is the pavilion of his power. That is the throne of 
his glory, on which he now sits, gathering all nations be- 



THE CHRISTIAN EMPIRE. 



135 



fore him. And when he promises to his apostles each 
a throne, it is such a one as that which he himself 
occupies. What is an earthly throne ? In itself noth- 
ing ; a mere semblance. It has no moral quality what- 
ever. Simply to sit on a throne is no advantage and 
confers no distinction. But the throne is an emblem of 
authority, of dignity, of extended influence. The prom- 
ise of a throne, therefore, which Jesus made to his apos- 
tles, is equivalent to the promise of great authority and 
wide-spread influence amongst men. To sit on a throne, 
in the view of Jesus, is to be a kingly man ; to command 
by the majesty of goodness ; to sway others by the at- 
traction of love ; to bind them in fidelity by services of 
benevolence. And such power needs no extraneous ap- 
pendages to sustain it. The more one has of it, the 
more deeply and widely is his influence felt. Inferior 
souls look up to him with reverence, as to a crowned 
brother. In his presence they feel their own sordidness 
and hardness of heart rebuked and condemned, and thus 
are they judged by him, — both the descendants of Isra- 
el and the children of the Gentiles. Thus the apostles 
of the Lord are throned magistrates. Here below 
they are held in profound reverence, and in heaven the 
twelve tribes of Israel cast their once-boasted honors at 
their feet, in acknowledgment of the grandeur and per- 
fection of the Gospel of love which they preached. 

We are taught by the Saviour that in the moral world 
they reign who serve. He himself came not to be min- 
istered unto, but to minister, that is, to serve. And his 
life, spent in labors and sacrifices, devoted to the highest 
welfare of man, reproves and condemns all who sit upon 
thrones of worldly dominion and occupy places of power 
merely to gratify their own love of glory, or passions less 
noble than that, whilst they are ministered unto by the 



136 



THE CHRISTIAN EMPIRE. 



heartless flattery or timid subserviency of their fellow- 
men. They reign who serve. They have the most ex- 
tended influence, their authority is greatest, their names 
are highest in the kingdom of heaven, who are most wise 
to know and most prompt to do the will of our Heavenly 
Father. They wear crowns whose hearts, enlarged with 
great sentiments, keep them busy in good works. They 
reign icho serve. And God is served by the patience 
of labor and suffering, by resignation in want, disappoint- 
ment, and sorrow, by the compassion which relieves dis- 
tress and by the tears of that pity which has no power 
to relieve, by the forbearance that overcomes evil with 
good, by the Christian gentleness that whispers of a 
peace which the world cannot give, by the prayers which 
go up from the closet of the lowly and devout heart, — 
by these testimonies of a right spirit, — as effectually 
and acceptably as he is, in other circumstances, by the 
more active efforts of Christian duty and philanthropy. 

And now, brethren, let us seriously ask ourselves, 
as we close these meditations, where we severally stand 
in relation to the Christian empire. Are we established 
under the dominion of the Prince of peace ? By solemn 
renunciation of the idols of this world, whose service is 
slavery and death, and by devout consecration of our lives 
to the highest ends, have we sworn allegiance to him 
who is the King of kings and the Lord of lords, and 
whose service is perfect freedom and immortal life ? 
Where is our place, where are our interests and affec- 
tions, in the great controversy which is waging between 
the King of Zion and the powers of darkness ? Would 
to heaven this might be to us the searching question it 
ought ! Would that it might give us no rest till it is 
answered in our perfect submission to the Christian law 
and our full experience of the Christian salvation ! 



THE CHRISTIAN EMPIRE* 



137 



Why, O, why shall we longer hug our chains, when 
the Deliverer is come ? Let us rather cast them off, 
and go out to meet him with gratitude and joy. Why 
shall we shut our eyes and refuse to see, when the majesty 
of the Lord is passing by ? Let us rather lift them up 
in reverence and hope. Nay, let us say to our hearts, 
" Be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors " ; and the King 
of glory shall come in. 

Christian brethren, the hour of the Holy Supper is 
come. We have .now an opportunity of testifying our 
sense of the value and benefit of the services ren- 
dered to the human family, and to us as members of 
it, by the Son of God. Before us are memorials of 
those services which were consecrated and ordained by 
his own lips. As we sit at his table and meditate on 
his death, may we feel all his spirit stirring within us, and 
moving us to new and more earnest endeavours to do 
good and finish our work as his disciples ! For to do 
good and finish our work is the great object of life, 
the one thing needful, the only thing which we shall 
be able to look back upon at life's close with much 
satisfaction, and which will afford a reasonable hope 
that, having been faithful in a few things here, we 
may have many things placed at our use and com- 
mand hereafter. O, let us follow after Christ, do- 
ing the work of our Father, asking for more strength 
only that we may accomplish more labor, and for longer 
life only that we may be able to adorn that life with a 
richer grace and make it more fruitful of Christian ben- 
edictions ; remembering always this saying of our Mas- 
ter, — u He that will be greatest among you, let him be 
the servant of all." 

12* 



SERMON XII. 



BY HENRY W. BELLOWS. 



FAITH IN CHRISTIANITY AS A FACT. 

"IF CHRIST BE NOT RISEN, THEN IS OUR PREACHING TAIN, AND 
YOUR FAITH IS ALSO TAIN." 1 Cor. XV. 14. 

Among all the moral and spiritual definitions of faith, 
there is not one to compare in real force with its sim- 
ple and obvious and popular meaning, as real belief. 
Theologians have thought to elevate faith by distinguish- 
ing it from belief, or by crowding under that one word 
all the right affections and pure principles of which our 
nature is capable. But its first and simplest and most 
practical acceptation is, after all, its most important one. 
Faith in Christ is belief in him. Faith in Christianity 
is belief in Christianity. It is easy and natural to con- 
found the fruits of faith with faith itself, because faith 
is important only for its fruits. But it is well to call 
things by their right names, and the world would have 
escaped much false theology if faith had always been 
naturally and practically defined. Belief in Christ, — 
belief in Christianity. Consider what it is. Run your 
thoughts through the familiar pages of the New Testa- 
ment, and reflect what it is we are professing to believe. 
A being calling himself the Son of God, of spotless 



CHRISTIANITY A FACT. 



139 



virtue and solemn sanctity, appears upon the earth, as 
a delegate from the invisible world, — the commissioned 
messenger of the Maker of heaven and earth, the un- 
seen Ruler of the universe, — and becomes the preacher 
of truth and righteousness, under new and divine sanc- 
tions. But, more than this, he substantiates his claim 
to the name he assumes and the authority he asserts 
by a long and varied series of miraculous works, as 
benevolent and holy in their spirit and object as they 
are manifestly supernatural in their origin and character. 
He heals the sick by a touch, makes the blind to see 
and the lame to walk by a word of his mouth, feeds 
hungering thousands with a few loaves and fishes, raises 
the dead, and meanwhile so interweaves instruction and 
practical beneficence, so proves his authority while he 
communicates his message, so wins the confidence 
and affections of the people while he astonishes and 
awes them, that it is impossible to say which do 
most to substantiate his claim to a divine character, 
his works or his words ; his miracles or his wisdom ; 
his commission or his character. Who, prior to ex- 
perience, could anticipate the form in which God would 
directly communicate with his creatures, or imagine 
how there could be united in one person the image of 
God's moral perfections and the representation of in- 
finite sovereignty ? Who could foresee or credit the 
possibility of a union of perfect meekness and super- 
human power, of childlike simplicity of character and 
miraculous works, of ineffable sweetness and purity, 
with boundless authority ? Yet such is the exhibition 
which the New Testament affords us of our Saviour. 
A character fitly called the express image of God's 
own, united to works which no man could do unless 



140 



CHRISTIANITY A FACT. 



God were with him, is the moral miracle which de- 
mands our faith in the records of our religion. And 
what are the chief doctrines, either expressed or im- 
plied, which this messenger and teacher, come from 
God, reveals to man ? He teaches the strict person- 
ality and Fatherhood of God ; he reveals the brother- 
hood of the human race, and the impartial interest of 
the common Parent in all his rational offspring ; he 
announces a life beyond the grave, the immortality of 
the soul, and the connection, here and for ever, between 
duty and the favor of God, righteousness and everlasting 
happiness. These are his doctrines, illustrated in his 
own holy life, both in his trustful and intimate inter- 
course with God and in his active and universal philan- 
thropy, and proved by his own resurrection from the 
dead, — a triumph over the grave distinctly foretold 
by himself, and its actual occurrence vouched by many 
credible witnesses. 

Brethren, such is Christ and such is Christianity; — 
do we believe in Christ and Christianity : Is it true 
that such a being, with such a history, has appeared ? 
I do not ask you whether you are prepared to dem- 
it, or if you are disposed to doubt it ; I know you are 
not. I do not ask you if you are ready to assent to it, 
for I am sure you are. But if you really believe it, 
believe it as you believe other most important events 
received on historical testimony. For if it be true, 
is it any less important to us than it was to our Lord's 
contemporaries ? If it be true, can any thing be so 
interesting, exciting, awakening, and consoling ? If it 
be true, is it not the very substance of faith to believe 
it with all the mind, and heart, and soul, to realize it 
in the most distinct and detailed manner, and to date 



CHRISTIANITY A FACT. 



141 



our hopes and opinions and consolations from its won- 
drous story ? 

There are those, I know, to whom the moral truths 
of Christianity, the obligations of duty, the precepts 
and spirit of Christianity, recommend themselves so 
fully, that they would believe and value the Gospel 
just as much if its history should prove a fable as they 
do now that they believe it as a fact. And there are 
those who regard the internal evidences of its spiritual 
truth with such satisfaction, that they are disposed to 
discountenance any anxiety about its external or specific 
proofs. I am sometimes inclined to think, that those 
who have attained this philosophic frame of mind would 
be just as well satisfied to believe that the individual 
soul has no conscious immortality, as that it is destined 
to a personal and distinct existence beyond the grave ; 
would as soon have Nature for their parent as God ; 
are as well satisfied with the evidences of natural as of 
revealed religion ; and, in short, pushed to the point, 
would confess that the special need and value of the 
Christian revelation was not as plain. to them as it is 
ordinarily claimed to be. Far be it from me, my 
brethren, to dogmatize upon the precise grounds on 
which Christianity shall be received, or to assert that, 
so it be heartily received, it matters greatly on what 
testimony it is accepted. But it does seem to me of 
the utmost consequence that it should be thoroughly be- 
lieved on some grounds, and that something definite 
should be believed about it ; and I do not hesitate 
to ascribe the poverty of its fruits, the insufficiency of 
its supports and consolations, and the want of its at- 
tractiveness, to the fact, that it is not believed in the 
character which belongs to it. 



142 



CHRISTIANITY A FACT. 



I cannot conceive of the state of mind which allows 
the indifference that some profess in regard to the his- 
torical facts of the Gospel. Is it a matter of no moral 
or spiritual importance whether the man Christ Jesus 
ever actually lived and spoke the words and did the 
deeds and experienced the fate ascribed to him in the 
Gospels ? Is it a question of indifference whether 
what we call the laws of nature have a Being above 
therrr whose interest in us is so paramount to their 
necessity that he can interrupt and has interrupted them 
to attest his presence with us by his appointed messen- 
ger ? Have we so deep and unwavering a faith in 
God's interest in us as individual men and women, that 
we need no direct assurance, under the crushing sense 
of our insignificance and errors and sins and mortality, 
of his care, his mercy and pity, his forgiveness and 
love ? Are the intimations of our immortality so strong 
within us, that w T e demand no proof beyond our in- 
stincts that we are to live again ? or are our desires 
for immortality so weak, that we are content to remain 
in uncertainty upon the subject ? Is the providence of 
God so plainly just and benevolent and holy, considered 
only with reference to this brief life, that we need no 
assurances of his paternal love and justice ? and are 
there no anxious, agonizing questions in the present 
order of things which demand extraordinary illumination 
and interpretation ? 

Alas ! as we behold the unequal lots which fall to 
our race, — so many thousands struggling with the ills of 
poverty, so many other thousands revelling in an oppres- 
sive abundance, so much gilded rottenness, so much mil- 
dewed worth, — here vice crowned with prosperity and 
there virtue crucified with adversity, — as we see under 



CHRISTIANITY A FACT. 



143 



the cope of these infinite heavens the dreadful scourges 
of war, slavery, intemperance, lust, and avarice rioting 
in misery and ruin, and no vengeance dropping from 
the skies to show that infinite justice dwells there, — 
what do we crave to satisfy our injured conscience, but 
one word spoken from the open heavens, telling us that 
this dreadful drama is not unwatched by almighty recti- 
tude, — that this disjointed and confounding scene is but 
a first act, which is straightway to be succeeded by an- 
other, devoted to the allotment of strict justice, when 
the strange inconsistencies of this world, the wrongs of 
innocence, the sufferings of virtue, the pleasures of 
vice, and the successes of iniquity shall each be duly 
considered and strictly conformed to the standards of 
perfect wisdom and holiness ? It is in vain to say that 
such a plan and purpose are apparent from a wide sur- 
vey of the moral government of God, and that he who 
doubts the equity of God's providence or the tenden- 
cies of his administration must be blind. Alas ! in- 
stant want and persecuted virtue and humiliated worth 
are not in a condition to take a wide and philosophical 
survey. Their whole horizon is dark and blank. The 
clouds form a pleasant part of the landscape to him 
who meanwhile stands in the sunshine, but not to him 
who is in its blinding mists. How many are there who 
dwell habitually in clouds and darkness ! What general 
considerations can sustain the poor mother, worse than 
widow perhaps, whose youth tasted comfort and peace, 
and who now, forsaken in a foreign land, feeds herself 
and her orphans in abject seclusion, toiling at unac- 
customed and severe labors to put bread into their 
mouths, and yet staring beggary in the face from week 
to week, — what can sustain sufferings like these, but a 



144 



CHRISTIANITY A FACT. 



direct appeal to the pity and justice of Heaven and a 
confident hope of a better world ? And is all the argu- 
ment you have to give her one founded on the instincts 
of the soul, or drawn from the indications of justice 
in the Divine administration of this world's affairs ? 
Alas ! one syllable of direct assurance from a being 
showing a divine authority to speak were worth all the 
philosophy in the world to her. Tell her that the Son 
of God, working miracles of healing and of supply for 
thousands, had not where to lay his head, was despised 
and rejected of men, but is risen and ascended to the 
heavens, whither he invites the weary and heavy-laden, 
and you have given her the only adequate consolation or 
solace her misery can receive. 

Brethren, there are few who have not at some time 
known the bitterness of bereavement. The enemy 
" that loves a shining mark" has taken away the most 
promising child in our flock ; death has smitten the 
widow's only son, and his bier has passed out at the 
city gate, and no benignant Jesus has stopped the funeral 
train and given back the awakened clay to the mother's 
arms; or the old prophetic warning has .been verified 
again, — " two shall be lying in one bed ; one shall be 
taken and the other left ; two shall be grinding at one 
mill ; the one shall be taken and the other left" ; and 
thus the most intimate ties of domestic life or the most 
accustomed union of occupations have been rudely sev- 
ered, — making half the world to be of that desolate 
class who have been " left." Whose faith, my breth- 
ren, is so strong, that even now any thing less than a 
miracle can fully satisfy the longing for assurance, for 
certainty, that our dead are not all and for ever gone ? 
It is easy to believe in the immortality of the living ; 



CHRISTIANITY A FACT. 



145 



difficult indeed to conceive of (heir mortality. It is 
not hard to be satisfied that the friends of others are 
safe in the better mansions. The question does not 
press upon us then with all its reality. But when our 
own beloved ones, those whom it is worse than death 
to live without, whom we would die to save, who make 
all that is attractive and blessed in existence, in whom 
our pride, our hope, our affections, are all treasured, ■ — 
when these cease to answer us, ^— when no fixed looks 
of ours can start the rigid eyelid, no agonizing ques- 
tionings bring forth one syllable through the frozen smile 
that seals their lips, no embalming tears and affec- 
tions save their dear forms from swift corruption, — what 
then would we not give for one instant's glimpse of the 
disembodied spirit, to attest its triumph over death ! 
Nay, might the awful silence of the grave, the dread- 
ful monotony of nature and heaven, be broken by any 
voice that told of spiritual existence anywhere out of 
the flesh, should we not feel that a drop of celes- 
tial balm had distilled into a wound, whose anguish 
nothing else can soothe ? 

But, brethren, what we thus ask is never again to 
be granted. It has already been bestowed. What 
we thus demand is secured. The dreadful void of 
heaven has sent forth a living, articulate voice. The 
land of spirits has furnished its hostage. Corruption 
has risen from its shroud, and the stilled heart has beat- 
en, the leaden eye has shone, the stagnant pulse has 
throbbed, again. The grave, in full possession of its 
prey, has rendered back to life its mangled, heart- 
pierced victim, and the dead has resumed the ways of 
life, and ascended in a visible shape unto the skies. 
Not to speak of those whom Jesus raised from the 
13 



146 



CHRISTIANITY A FACT. 



dead, - — Lazarus, the widow's son, the daughter of Jairus, 
— all exquisite and touching illustrations of our Master's 
spirit in the choice of occasions for his mightiest works, 
and each speaking to its own peculiar class of bereave- 
ments, — is not the resurrection of our Saviour worthy 
of continuing what it was at the outset of his religion, 
the corner-stone of the Gospel ? Is not all that renders 
us indifferent or insensible to it the fact, that it seems 
altogether too much what we could desire to be quite 
credible ? Such a blessed ministry as this to our doubts, 
such a rending of the many-folded curtain hanging be- 
fore futurity, such a glimpse into the heavenly mansions, 
such a proof of immortality, seems so unlike the gen- 
eral mystery, reserve, and silence that close up the 
pathway of mortality, that we are afraid to credit it. 
But, brethren, the Gospel is the grace of God. Christ 
came bringing life and immortality to light. And the 
crowning glory of his religion is, that for once every 
hope, desire, doubt, or fear of the human heart was met. 
We asked ideal perfection on earth. God sent it to us 
in his Son. We asked a sign from heaven ; and that 
which was for a time withheld from those who sought 
it was at length yielded to us. We complained that 
virtue was neglected and abandoned to disgrace ; and 
Heaven, to reconcile us to such a lot, gave its only be- 
gotten Son to the sufferings of the cross. We asked 
that the laws of nature should not for ever interpose 
between man and his Maker ; and his arm was made 
bare and his instant presence exhibited in innumerable 
displays of supernatural power. We asked that the 
grave should disgorge its victims ; that the dead should 
speak ; — - and the rock is rolled from the tomb, and the 
crucified, the dead and buried Lord comes forth, and 



CHRISTIANITY A FACT. 



147 



again mingles with those who had seen his agonies and 
received his parting blessing and breath. For once, 
all that human affection, all that the disbelieving senses, 
all that the trembling, yearning heart, of mortal man could 
ask is granted. Once and for ever, that, and all that 
the reason, the scrutinizing understanding, the incredu- 
lous senses, the dull imagination, the importunate affec- 
tions, could ask of almighty power and love, to satisfy 
them in respect to the most pressing and difficult ques- 
tions in the human lot and the future destiny of the soul, 
has been vouchsafed. And shall we make the affluence 
and condescension of Heaven an argument against the 
reality of its own bounty ? What we all were asking 
and craving so inappeasably, shall we doubt to have once 
been given, only because it is so unspeakably desirable ? 

I know well the pervading skepticism of these days 
in every thing wearing a miraculous aspect. The world 
is offsetting the credulity of centuries by a spirit of 
doubt ; and because the fathers believed in witchcraft 
and ghosts, the sons are determined to credit nothing 
which surpasses their own experience. So much of 
doctine and form once held sacred has proved useless 
and been abandoned, that it has, not unnaturally, but 
hastily, been inferred that every thing peculiar in Chris- 
tianity would finally be reasoned away, except its pure 
morals and benevolent spirit. But Christianity is an his- 
torical fact, and the profoundest research made by the 
freest minds has done nothing yet to bring its records 
into just question, or to divest it of its supernatural 
character. The authenticity and credibility of the New 
Testament are more thoroughly vindicated, as learning 
becomes more accurate and searching ; and we have the 
same evidence of the supernatural facts of the Gospel, 



148 



CHRISTIANITY A FACT. 



which we have for the Sermon on the Mount. It were 
as easy to separate the veins- from a marble slab without 
crumbling the stone, as to disentangle the miracles of 
Christ from his moral precepts and his holy character. 
His moral character is involved in his miraculous works. 
He was either an impostor, or he possessed supernatu- 
ral powers, — or else all his disciples were impostors, 
and the same men that gave us the holy and truthful and 
simple character of Jesus falsified themselves by in- 
venting his miracles. We may perhaps imagine that 
they were merely enthusiasts ; but they not only as- 
cribed miracles to Christ, they pretended to have 
wrought them themselves. No, they were not deceived, 
but deceivers, if the miracles are not real and credible. 

And now, my brethren, what distinguished the early 
disciples from ourselves, — what gave them their zeal and 
glorying spirit, and made the Gospel so all in all to 
them ? Was it not that, whereas we accept it, or do 
not deny it, they believed it ? They knew it to be true ; 
and, being true, could not but feel its tremendous import 
and inspiration. What do ive need but to believe it 
also, to experience its mighty power to transform our 
lives, to change our aims, to console our sorrows, and 
to supply new and mighty motives of righteous and 
holy living ? Could the resurrection of Christ occur 
again, and within our own immediate knowledge and ob- 
servation, think you it would-be possible to continue as 
indifferent as for the most part we now are to the ex- 
istence of a future world ? With such an argument be- 
fore our eyes, think you we could go on heaping to- 
gether houses and lands, and fixing our affections and 
efforts upon the possessions of this world, as if we had 
an eternal tenure of life ? Could such an instant and 



CHRISTIANITY A FACT. 



149 



awakening proof as this be given us of the actual 
presence of God, should we think it a matter of mere 
sentimentality or superstition to call upon his name 
in daily prayer ? Should we continue to postpone the 
preparation of our own souls for the judgment to come 
and a spiritual existence in another world, until the 
ebbing tide of life made religion a necessity without 
grace, merit, or profitableness ? If Christianity be true, 
if Jesus Christ has lived, if he has wrought miracles 
in attestation of his origin and mission, if he has risen 
from the dead and ascended to heaven, what a stupen- 
dous peculiarity, what a momentous interest and impor- 
tance, attach to his precepts and commandments and dis- 
closures ! Think of it, brethren. Take up your New 
Testaments, as if for the first time, and remember that 
you are reading history. These facts are not less 
wonderful because they occurred eighteen hundred years 
ago. The pious Jew sends his thought back more than 
twice as far, to find his great prophet, and yet observes 
his precepts with a jealous fidelity. Christianity is not 
so old that every generation does not do something to 
explain and enlarge its meaning and scope. Nay, in the 
light of a profounder acquaintance with collateral con- 
temporary history, the New Testament is better under- 
stood now than a single century after it was written. 
Its miraculous facts have an importance increasing with 
every age, and the explosion of all other claims to the 
supernatural only adds new lustre and power to the 
Christian miracles. Even our Saviour's own disciples, 
believers as they were in magic and the power of evil 
spirits, could not attach as exclusive and correct a 
value to his works as we can, who know that to God 
alone belongs the power of setting aside or transcending 
13* 



150 



CHRISTIANITY A FACT. 



the laws of nature. Besides, every new discovery in 
science and every development of the mysteries of nature 
only teach us how utterly helpless all known or latent 
principles of mere nature are to do such wonders as 
Christ wrought. How feebly compare the best efforts 
of those modern sciences claiming a sort of supernatural 
knowledge and power with the simple but direct and 
open exercises of miraculous power manifested by 
Christ, in feeding the multitude, giving sight to the blind, 
and raising the dead and buried ! Brethren, can these 
things be so, and you feel no lively interest in your re- 
ligion, no eager wish to understand it, to study its rec- 
ords, to meditate its doctrines, and to frame your lives 
by its rules ? Is it not worth your while to stop the 
hurrying train of business, to forego some advantages of 
worldly success, and settle with yourselves these ques- 
tions : — Is or is not the Gospel true ? and what is the 
truth in the Gospel ? I am sure no man can fairly con- 
sider these questions without feeling that indifference to 
religion is the greatest of follies ; that much for which 
we are delving and slaving is comparatively worthless ; 
and that in pursuing the pleasures and interests of the 
world, to the neglect of virtue, duty, and the hope of 
immortality, we are digging cisterns that hold no water, 
and choking and filling up the fountain of life. If 
Christ be risen, we are immortal creatures on our way 
to judgment. M If ye, then, be risen with Christ, seek 
those things which are above, where Christ sitteth on 
the right hand of God. Set your affections on things 
above, not on things on the earth. For ye are dead, 
and your life is hid with Christ in God ; when Christ 
who is our life shall appear, then shall ye also appear 
with him in glory." 



SERMON XIII. 



BY EZRA S. GANNETT. 



TRUST IN GOD. 

THOUGH HE SLAY ME, YET WILL I TRUST IN HIM. — Job xiii. 15. 

There is a state of mind, into which many persons 
are led by their acquaintance with life, to which in fact 
but few persons of thoughtful and serious habits, I ap- 
prehend, are wholly strangers. It is produced by expe- 
riencing or observing the discipline which falls upon in- 
dividuals in such various forms and with such different 
degrees of severity, and which, in many cases as they 
singly arise, and in a multitude of cases as we extend 
our view over any considerable portion of society, it is 
so difficult to reconcile with the goodness of God. The 
consciousness of this state of mind is often attended with 
self-reproach, or is endured as irremediable, when a right 
understanding of its character might show that it neither is 
a proper occasion for blame, nor is incapable of allevia- 
tion. It is not unbelief, nor is it rebellion or resistance 
to the Divine will ; for it is acknowledged by those who 
entertain no doubts concerning the existence, perfection, 
providence, and moral government of God. It is a mix- 
ture of surprise and pain, of suffering caused by the 



152 



TRUST IN GOD. 



events of life, and of wonder that such events should fall 
within the Divine providence. It expresses itself in ex- 
clamations like these, — How dark ! how mysterious ! 
or in questions like these, — Why am I or my friend 
doomed to such an experience ? what have I done that 
I should be called to endure such a peculiarity or accumu- 
lation of trial ? It is, in a word, the state of mind w^hich 
is awakened on beholding the dark side of life in some 
of its gloomiest aspects. It is the strife of the soul with 
its own experience, when difficulties and disappointments 
embarrass its ascent into that region of heavenly con- 
templation where things are seen in their true shapes and 
actual relations. It is the struggle of the mind to recon- 
cile what it believes with what it sees, the weariness of 
the heart when it finds that its patience must be stronger 
than its hope. It has been known to men of a reflective 
and religious cast of mind in all ages. It was the trial 
through which Job is represented as passing, and the 
recognition of this state of mind in him will open to us 
the meaning of many passages which he is made to utter. 
It is nowhere, perhaps, better described, than in the 
words which a living poet of England puts into the 
mouth of another : — 

"I bear an earnest Christian faith; 
I never shrunk at thought of death ; 
I know the rapt'rous light of heaven, 
To man's unsealed vision given ; — 
My spirit is not blind : — but when 
The tortures of my brother-men, 
The famine of gray hairs, 
The sick beds of the poor, 
Life's daily stinging cares 
That crowd the proudest door, 
The tombs of the long-loved, 



TRUST IN GOD. 



153 



The slowly broken heart, 

Come thronging thick about me, 

Close in the world without me, 

How should I not despond ? 

How can I stretch my sight so far 

As where things blest and holy are I 

Mv mortal nature is too frail 

To penetrate the sable veil, — 

I cannot see beyond." 

We " cannot see," — that is the heart of the difficulty. 
We long for a vision which we cannot obtain ; and, fail- 
ing to obtain it, we fall back upon our amazement and 
our suffering, — the perplexity which tortures our hearts, 
and the experience which does not unsettle, but disqui- 
ets our faith. 

Now, in regard to this state of mind, my first remark 
is, that it is perfectly natural, and therefore we ought 
not to be either surprised or distressed that it comes to 
us. It comes to us ; we do not go in pursuit of it. It 
is, with many of us, inevitable. It is the fruit of what 
we observe or what we feel, and we might with as 
much propriety blame ourselves for the unpleasant sensa- 
tions which a harsh wind causes, as for the uncomforta- 
ble moods through which the spirit is compelled to pass 
as a consequence of its exposure to the sterner disci- 
pline of life. One error, indeed, we are apt to commit, 
in exaggerating the amount of evil that falls to our own 
lot, or that is endured by our fellow-men. It may 
not be an absolute exaggeration, but in a comparative 
judgment of things we overstate the amount. Many a 
person has thought his own case peculiar, or regarded 
himself as an example of unequalled suffering ; when, if 
he could have looked into other homes and other hearts, 
he would have found those whose condition resembled 



154 



TRUST IN GOD. 



his in its most painful circumstances, and some whose 
burdens were heavier than his own. In considering, 
also, the severity and variety of trial which claim our 
notice in the world about us, we must not forget the 
number and diversity of blessings which the Father of 
all bestows on his children, — in unequal portions, it is 
true, but in such abundance as vastly outweighs the sum 
total of appointed or permitted suffering. 

Yet, under these restrictions or corrections, there still 
remains substantially the same state of mind of which 
I have spoken. And now, my friends, I ask you to 
observe a special evidence of God's love arising out of 
this very consciousness of human souls. It is a well- 
known principle of the Divine government, that it pro- 
vides a compensation for every evil which it introduces, 
or which it allows to have a place in the course of hu- 
man experience. There is no suffering for which there 
is not some means of relief, and with which is not con- 
nected some spiritual advantage. Even sin, that evil of 
our own production, is not permitted to form an excep- 
tion to this remark. Mercy is provided to meet the con- 
dition into which man brings himself through sin, and 
against the agony of remorse is set the delight of restora- 
tion to a Father's love. We may expect, therefore, to 
find some provision made for the distress which the mind 
encounters through its inability to solve the mysteries of 
life. And in this expectation we shall not be disappoint- 
ed. For just the case which I have described relief is 
provided ; the soul need not prey on its own want. A 
way of escape from this terrible discontent with the 
dealings of Providence, this virtual impeachment of the 
Divine wisdom and goodness, is opened, through an 
exercise of which the soul is naturally capable, but of 



TRUST IN GOD. 



155 



the value and extent of which it could not have known 
without the experience that calls it forth. 

The relief to which I would point, the remedy for the 
state of mind which we are considering, is trust in God, 
— simple, steadfast, equal trust, which the mind is capa- 
ble of exercising under the greatest suffering, but which 
it never would exercise to the full extent of its capacity 
if it were not subject to such suffering. And this trust, 
let me observe, in further illustration of the Divine love 
that overrules our lives, is the only remedy of which 
the case admits. Nothing else would relieve the con- 
sciousness of want. If we could see through all God's 
arrangements, we should probably find, alike in the moral 
and the physical worlds, that each evil has its specific 
remedy. Here, at least, we discover a provision in the 
original capacities of our nature exactly suited to the 
exigency it is meant to relieve. The unhappiness which 
is a consequence of the limited range of our spiritual 
vision is removed by the unbounded trust which we 
may repose in God. 

The justification, as well as foundation, of such a 
trust is our faith in God. We believe in Him as a 
Being of infinite perfections, the righteous Governor, 
the all-wise Disposer, the Heavenly Father. These are 
familiar words, so familiar that we are blind to their 
significance. They mean more than tongue can tell ; 
they mean every thing that the mind can inquire after, or 
the heart sigh for. They are the keys that unlock the 
treasures of the universe ; the instruments that open for 
us the nourishing sweetness of life, that spiritual life of 
which our visible experience is often but the hard and bit- 
ter rind. If we will allow them to convey into our minds 
so much of their meaning as we are capable of appre- 



156 



TRUST IN GOD. 



hending, we shall perceive the justice of our reposing a 
perfect trust in Him who not only cannot do wrong, but 
all whose ways must be faithfulness and kindness towards 
us. Must be, I say. I do not attempt to show how 
they bear this character. In many instances they seem 
to bear a different character. But in theso instances 
we must not let the appearance mislead our judgment. If 
God is God, then he is both great and good. If I believe 
in the teaching of Jesus Christ, I believe that God is the 
Father ; and believing this, I know that his providence 
must be faithful and kind in its relations to us. Trials 
must be disguised blessings. Affliction must be parental 
discipline. Death must be the security and enlargement 
of life. Even punishment must be beneficent in its pur- 
pose, as well as righteous in its character. There can 
be nothing wrong in the providence or government of 
God, nothing which is not both reconcilable and harmo- 
nious with the displays of his love that strike even the 
most careless or skeptical observer. The examples 
of suffering which we pronounce inexplicable, which 
disturb our peace or vex our faith, — the examples of 
lonely struggle, of incessant pain, of overwhelming grief, 
of accumulating bereavement, — or of social injustice, of 
blasted usefulness, of imprisoned hope, — these, and 
worse, if worse there be, are not proofs of Divine incon- 
sistency. They are not even episodical, but essential 
parts of a perfect whole ; not parenthetical sentences, if 
I may so speak, in the book of life, which God's hand 
is ever writing out, but passages which could not be 
spared without impairing its sense or destroying its con- 
nection. All this must be true, if our faith in God be 
not a delusion. And if it be not, and all this be true, 
then a constant and entire trust in Him is just as reason- 



TRUST IN GOD. 



157 



able, just as proper, just as clear a duty, and just as 
delightful a privilege, as gratitude for mercies which we 
can distinctly trace to his goodness, or prayer for bless- 
ings which he has promised to bestow on those who ask 
for them. Simple, patient trust, this is what w T e ought 
to maintain, unless we mean to forsake Christ and deny 
the Heavenly Father. 

And such trust is what we need ; what at some time in 
the course of our Jives, perhaps often, most of us, if not 
all, will require as their defence against the assaults of 
trouble, their refuge from the storm that will beat upon 
them ; w r hat at other times we shall all need, as we 
look over the condition of our fellow-men, and see so 
much which we cannot understand, and should in vain 
try to relieve. 1 know that a large proportion of human 
suffering is the consequence of a violation, either volun- 
tary or through ignorance inevitable, of what are called 
the natural laws by which life should be regulated ; 
and I know, also, that society is the author, through its 
institutions, of an incalculable amount of individual dis- 
tress. But the difficulty which presses upon the mind 
that would understand God's ways dees not vanish 
before such knowledge. It is only removed from one 
position to another. Why is society permitted to be 
the author of so much harm to them whom it should 
infold in its protection ? Why are multitudes so situ- 
ated that they must be unconscious transgressors of the 
laws on which comfort, health, and virtue depend ? Re- 
ligious philosophy may boast that it can answer these 
questions, but its boasting is like that of the child, who, 
because he can perform the operations of simple arith- 
metic, imagines that he can solve the problems of the 
higher mathematics. Philosophy has not yet learned far 
14 



158 



TRUST IN GOD. 



enough. Nor do I believe that it ever will in this life. 
And besides, there are seasons of personal experience, 
when, in spite of all that philosophy and Christianity 
can do for the heart, the only interpretation of its groans 
is, — Why is this ? Why am I so afflicted ? — seasons, 
when 

" We grasp at words and find them meaningless, 
Bind thoughts together that will not be bound, 
But burst asunder at the very time 
We hold them closest ; — find we are awake 
The while we seem to dream, and find we dream 
The while we seem to be the most awake." 

In such hours we must have a filial trust in God, or 
we shall be tossed from doubt to doubt, from sorrow to 
sorrow, like the weed which the sea breaks upon the 
rocks. We grow tired of asking questions which no 
one can answer. We grow tired of reasoning which 
does not satisfy us. We grow tired of explanations 
which are no explanations to us. We long for rest, 
for peace ; and we can find it only as we take into our 
souls the meaning and application of the Saviour's words, 
u Even so, Father, for so it seemed good in thy sight." 

There we may find it, for this trust is sufficient for 
our greatest necessities. This calm, confiding reliance 
on God will comfort and sustain us when nothing else 
can, — when sympathy can only smooth the surface of 
our grief, when instruction can but lay its vain com- 
mands upon a restless mind, when the bruised heart 
would continue to throb with anguish, even if the music 
of heaven were sent to charm away its pain. Even 
then, in those bitter moments, the soul that puts its trust 
in God can command its sorrows and its passions, can 
be meekly submissive,, even as Jesus was when amidst 



TRUST IN GOD. 



159 



the agonies of the cross he maintained that wonderful 
composure which extorted the admiration, and the self- 
condemnation, of those who had clamored for his death. 
Trust in God will close our lips against all complaint, 
and repress every impatient emotion. It will regulate 
that feeling of insecurity which is so sure a consequence 
of bereavement, and will relieve us of that feeling of 
loneliness which is the heaviest part of our load. For 
we shall have placed our confidence, not in one who is 
afar off, but in the ever-present and omniscient One, in 
that guardian Power which never leaves us, that fatherly 
Love which never remits its tenderness. Implant this 
sentiment in your heart, child of suffering, and you will 
be strong to do, as well as patient to bear, God's will. 
Commit yourself to him, and you will escape from fear 
and anxiety, from all irritation at the present or alarm 
concerning the future, from despondency and despair. 
Let the prospect before you be ever so gloomy, you 
will exclaim, in tranquil expectation, — "Though he 
slay me, yet will I trust in him." Be obscurity your 
condition, be poverty your lot, let injustice fasten its 
fangs upon your reputation, let bereavement rob you of 
child and companion and friend, let sickness waste your 
frame, and ill-success wear out your energies, still you 
will be firm, as one who stands on solid ground, braced 
against an immovable support ; you will be quiet, as one 
who having passed through great dangers is incapable of 
feeling apprehension ; you will summon the remnant of 
your powers to the service of God, and gathering up your 
bleeding affections from the earth where they have fallen, 
torn from the objects to which they clung, you will bind 
them around the thought of that Being in whom the love 
or hope of his creatures can never meet with disappoint- 



160 



TRUST IX GOD. 



ment. Though others may regard you as living in a 
cold and dark world, you will not pronounce it such, for 
you will have learned with how much truth it has been 
said that 4C God's love is sunlight to the good," shed- 
ding radiance upon their minds and diffusing warmth 
through their hearts ; and who does not know that the 
w r orld and life, the present, the past, and the future, are 
what we judge them to be in the light under which we 
choose to view them ? You are not alone in your 
experience, either of the need, or of the sufficiency, of 
this trust. Multitudes before you have endured the 
same conflicts, and have overcome through the same 
faith. Many around you are visited with similar afflic- 
tions, and are sustained and solaced by a like trust. In 
abodes of penury are toil-worn men and women, whose 
only possession is this trust, and whose only learning is 
that which they have gained in the school of Providence. 
In costly mansions are hearts which have been wrung 
with agony, and been quieted only by a surrender of 
themselves to God. Be encouraged by their example. 
Trust ; perhaps it is all you can do. Do that, and be 
at peace. 

Especially is thte repose of the soul in God needed, 
and will be found sufficient, under the first shock of 
bereavement. That, I am sure, is not the time for 
elaborate comfort or violent exertion. Then we have 
little inclination, and little power, for those offices of 
inquiry or study which might reveal to us some of the 
reasons of God's dealings. Then, I conceive, the heart 
rather shrinks from a consideration of the benefits that 
may flow from our trouble. It seems too much like 
an attempt to balance our loss by a proportionate gain, 
and we involuntarily avoid what presents itself to our 



TRUST IN GOD. 



161 



thought as unfaithfulness to the memory of the depart- 
ed. We are oppressed by an immediate calamity. We 
are enveloped in a cloud. We " cannot see." We 
can only trust. This is what I would address as my 
first and last counsel to the mourner at such a time, — 
trust in him who has called you to pass through the 
gloom. Abide beneath the shelter of this one truth, 
that God is good. Believe it. If T should attempt to 
prove it to you now, I should fail in my purpose, for 
you are not in a state to feel the force of such, or of any 
argument. But you can believe and trust, as Job did 
when his friends reproached him and he sat in the dust, 
as David did when his darling child was taken, as Jesus 
did when he said, "If it be possible, let this cup pass 
from me ; nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou wilt." 

Tell me not that this is inadequate consolation, that 
these are cold words of comfort to address to a stunned 
or aching heart. They are not comfortless words. No ; 
they are words of the highest and best comfort. They 
direct the inquirer and the mourner to the Source of all 
light, strength, and peace. What if I cannot answer the 
questions which an irreverent curiosity or an impatient 
grief may propound ? If I indicate the resource to 
which the mind may flee from all the doubt or distress 
that such questions create, I render the sufferer a better 
service than if I brought his whole experience within his 
comprehension. Communion with God is better than 
the knowledge which many persons crave. Trust can 
heal the wounds of the heart, when knowledge might 
only inform the intellect. What if I leave an atmosphere 
of mystery around human life ? If I can lead you to 
believe that this is the atmosphere which the good God 
has appointed to be the element for our souls to breathe, 
14* 



162 



TRUST IN GOD. 



I shall inspire more contentment than if I could remove 
the mystery and let you see all things as they appear to 
beings of a higher order of existence ; for confidence in 
God is a surer spring of contentment than reliance on 
the accuracy of our own judgments. What if I say, we 
must " walk by faith, not by sight " ? Faith is the soul's 
vision of the Infinite, and this is better than an under- 
standing of all that intervenes between us and the Infinite 
One. He who walks by faith walks safely. 

" Perfect light 
Might dazzle, not illuminate, our sight." 

He who trusts in God secures a protection against sur- 
prise, an alleviation of all trouble. Here is an anodyne 
for the soul, which does not take away its consciousness, 
but subdues the irritation of its distress. If he who has 
discovered the means of producing brief insensibility to 
bodily pain be regarded as a benefactor of his race, what 
must not be the value of that solace which permanently 
controls the sharpness of mental suffering ! 

Above all, do not say that this is an unnatural course 
into which I would direct the exercises of the heart. 
Trust is not unnatural. On the contrary, it is the first 
and the last office to which our nature prompts us. 
Childhood is trustful, and in death man lays hold on his 
trust in God. There is a period of life when we are 
apt to think it a mark of greater wisdom to doubt than 
to believe, to inquire than to trust. But this is the 
period which separates the wisdom of experience from 
the simplicity of youth. As we go on in life, and learn 
to estimate more justly its dimensions, reaching from 
earth to heaven, and spreading themselves through the 
diversified experience of humanity, and learn, also, to 
understand ourselves better, in both our capacity and 



TRUST IN GOD. 



163 



our inability, we come back to the habit of our early 
years, and renew our trust in a care and guidance which 
are not our own. This is the second childhood of the 
soul, not that mental imbecility over which we mourn 
when we see it in the aged, but the indulgence of that 
childlike disposition which Jesus commended when he 
said, " Except ye be converted and become as little 
children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven." 
This docile and confiding temper is agreeable to our 
nature ; for a time, indeed, checked by self-esteem, but 
really its proper growth. In persuading you, then, to 
trust in God when that state of mind which we have 
been considering recurs within your experience, I do 
but oppose one natural feeling to another. Let me en- 
treat you, my friends, to cherish this trust. In all your 
perplexity and all your trouble, wait on Him who cannot 
err, in the confidence of a filial piety. Be tranquil, be 
strong, through your conviction that the Father's love 
includes all events within its oversight and its plan. Find 
here your consolation. Seek here your duty. Let no 
shock throw your souls off from their reliance upon the 
Infinite One. Let no suffering corrode the integrity of 
your trust in Him. But feel your nearness to Him, his 
presence with you, remembering that 

" Man does not live by joy alone, 
But by the presence of the power of God." 



SERMON XIV. 



BY ANDREW P. PEAB0DY. 



OBSTACLES IN THE WAY OF CHRISTIAN 
OBEDIENCE. 

I HAVE NOT FOUND THY WORKS PERFECT BEFORE GOD. Revela- 
tion iii. 2. 

The religious life comprises both sentiment and ac- 
tion, — feeling, and its appropriate expression in word 
and deed. Each of these languishes without the other. 
An outward religious walk grows careless and faulty, 
when not sustained by deep feeling ; and, on the other 
hand, the religious sentiments become cold and languid, 
when not carried out in speech and life. This last, I 
apprehend, is a very common case. I believe that 
there is a great deal of sincere religious feeling, where 
there is a sad lack of open, determined, consistent 
Christian speech and action. There are many who 
have great quickness and tenderness of feeling on all sub- 
jects connected with religion, — who enjoy the Scrip- 
tures and the public and private exercises of devotion, 
who cherish thoughts of heaven, and reach forth con- 
stantly towards a higher purity and spirituality of char- 
acter, — who yet hang back from many of the obvious 



OBSTACLES TO CHRISTIAN OBEDIENCE. 165 



outward duties of the religious life, and seem as to many 
matters of habit and practice to belong where at heart 
they do not belong. They are spiritual in thought and 
desire, and still quite worldly in life. They have be- 
nevolent feelings, yet in practice a very contracted chari- 
ty. They are philanthropic at heart, and yet bestow 
cold words and no effort at all on the great moral enter- 
prises for the redemption of their brethren. The con- 
sequence is, that they are perpetually doubtful and dis- 
satisfied as to their own religious condition. Their best 
thoughts and feelings are often clouded over by de- 
spondency. They feel that, w 7 ith all their aspirations, 
they are not growing in grace. Their faith, not made 
perfect by works, though sometimes strong and clear, 
is often frail and nickering. They do not realize the 
full blessedness that they desire and expect from relig- 
ious sources. They feel rather as if poised between 
the two w r orlds, than as citizens of heaven. The wings 
of the spirit droop and languish, whenever they attempt 
to rise into the higher regions of meditation and devo- 
tion. Is not this too true a picture of many whom we 
could ill afford to lose from the household of faith, and 
on whom we trust that the Master looks with no un- 
friendly eye, but to whom his earnest exhortation would 
be, "Friends, go up higher"? Nay, is not this de- 
scription in some degree applicable to all of us, who de- 
sire and endeavour to be Christians ? Are our works 
as perfect as our notions of duty, — as pure as our de- 
votional feelings, — as true to God and Christ as our 
hearts are in their best hours ? 

Now it is or may be very clear to all of us what a 
Christian ought to be. Christ is the disciple's only mod- 
el. And what was he as to outward duty ? First, pure, 



166 OBSTACLES TO CHRISTIAN OBEDIENCE. 



gentle, unweariedly kind, forbearing and forgiving to the 
utmost, rigidly sincere and truthful, without a trace of 
resentment, pride, or envy ; — then, energetic, self-sacri- 
ficing, going straight onward in the way of duty, alike 
in good and in evil report, with the favoring or the op- 
posing suffrages of those around him ; — then, again, 
unworldly, spiritual, self-consecrated, living as under the 
eye of God and at the gate of heaven. In fine, we 
cannot trace in his life the distinction, which may be 
too plainly traced in ours, between common and sacred 
seasons. We see him in the casual intercourse of the 
way-side, — at table with his friends, — in the retire- 
ment of home, and under these circumstances he 
seems no less holy and divine than when he prays on 
the mountain, or bears his cross through the streets of 
Jerusalem. But do not we, professed disciples of 
Christ, lead, many of us, a sadly divided life ? Are 
we, in business and in pleasure, at our homes and in 
our social intercourse, towards the poor and the sinning, 
towards the cause of Christ and of man, all that we are 
at the communion-table ? Might we not, to the eye 
that could track us from month to month and see our 
hearts, seem different beings under different outward cir- 
cumstances, — devout at church, yet often worldly at 
home, — sincere in prayer, and equally sincere in Mam- 
mon-worship, — when we think of it, thirsting for the 
praise of God, and yet, at other times, willing to forfeit 
it rather than to incur misconstruction or reproach from 
man, — at the altar praying, " Thy kingdom come," 
but elsewhere doing little or nothing to advance that 
kingdom ? Our fault (at least the fault which I would 
consider now) is, not that we lack right and good 
thoughts, desires, and purposes, but that we are prone 



OBSTACLES TO CHRISTIAN OBEDIENCE. 



167 



not to carry them with us when and where we most 
need them, — that we leave many departments of our 
speech and conduct governed by lower motives, and 
not by religious principle. And it seems to me that 
there is sometimes an almost, stubborn determination to 
do this. We admit the control of religion in some 
things, and resist it or are deaf to it in others. We 
say to the fountain that ought to flow in and cleanse our 
whole hearts and lives, " Thus far shalt thou go, and 
no farther." 

I think that I have sufficiently defined the moral con- 
dition which I wish now to address ; and it seems ap- 
propriate to our communion season to inquire, — What 
are the chief obstacles in the way of our being in speech 
and life all that we ought to be, — all that with a good 
measure of sincerity we profess and intend to be ? In 
enumerating these obstacles, do not think that I am as- 
suming a Pharisaic attitude, and casting the stone at 
my fellow-Christians as without sin myself. No. I am 
going to speak of obstacles which have lain in my own 
path, — of trials which I have keenly and painfully felt. 
I know that many of you have encountered the same, 
some of you, perhaps, without full consciousness of their 
nature, and I may therefore be able to show you your 
weak points, and to help you to renewed watchfulness 
and diligence at those points. 

1. First among these obstacles I would name the love 
of ease. This is an infirmity of the flesh against which 
we all must struggle. In the early days of the Church, 
one had to mortify this at the outset, in order to make 
a Christian profession or to put on a Christian appear- 
ance. Self-denial fenced the very gate of the Church, 
and hedged in the disciple's whole path. None, there- 



168 OBSTACLES TO CHRISTIAN OBEDIENCE. 



fore, entered or staid, but those who felt strong enough 
to bear the cross. But in these days a Christian pro- 
fession implies no self-denial. One may maintain a de- 
cent standing in the Church without effort or sacrifice. 
The conditions for Christian communion are nowhere 
crushingly heavy. If one only lives as his fellow-worship- 
pers do, refrains from vice, and attends upon the out- 
ward ordinances of religion, he encounters no censure 
or reproach from his brethren, to remind him of the 
Chistian duties that he has left undone and the Christian 
graces that he has left uncultivated. He may also, in 
this negligent life, have some religious enjoyment. He 
will derive inward peace and satisfaction from the vir- 
tues which he does cultivate, and from the religious 
services to which he brings any degree of sincerity. 
He maybe thankful to God and at peace with man. 
There may be nothing positively wrong in him to mar 
his happiness ; and, because he is thus free from re- 
morse and mental anguish, he may conclude that his 
spiritual condition is all that it ought to be. 

Now is it not undeniable that very many (so-called) 
Christians make their ease the measure of their duty 
even to their own consciences, as if the Gospel rule 
of self-denial were abrogated, and man's convenience 
were God's law ? How often is the plea of incon- 
venience urged as decisive against the most manifest 
demands for activity or claims of charity ! Yet many 
of the most obvious forms of Christian obedience do 
require effort. Speech always reverent, considerate, 
just, and kind requires effort. It costs an effort to 
suppress the sally of wit that would make free with 
sacred names and hallowed associations, — to refrain 
the lips from censorious or disdainful words, — to stem 



OBSTACLES TO CHRISTIAN OBEDIENCE. 169 



in behalf of the absent the flow of unrighteous scorn or 
calumny. It costs an effort to perform worthy works 
of Christian charity. Many part, not without a severe 
struggle, with money, — the very cheapest instrument 
of charity ; and with many, who are not penurious, it 
requires an arduous effort to bestow the time, thought, 
and labor, without which no good can be done to men's 
minds and souls, nor yet their outward wants be met 
with any certainty. Every form of religious charity 
demands the sacrifice of ease, the tension of the mind, 
and the surrender of the best powers and affections to 
the work. It seems to me that the whole duty of a 
Christian demands as constant, though not so arduous 
and painful, self-denial as it did in the days of the Apos- 
tles, — that, though we may now go to heaven surround- 
ed by our families and by all outward blessjngs, the 
appointed path demands full as much activity and en- 
ergy, and permits as little selfish ease, as when Chris- 
tians had to forsake kindred, wealth, and comfort, and to 
encounter stripes, the prison, and the stake. 

Now, have we not all yielded more or less to the 
solicitations of ease, in opposition to the manifest claims 
of duty ? If so, how is this obstacle to be met and 
overcome ? I know not, except by deliberate and de- 
termined effort at the outset, in the faith that the effort 
will soon grow easy, and will meet a speedy reward. I 
have called the love of ease an infirmity of the flesh. It 
is emphatically so ; for it is only bodily ease that we 
attain by holding ourselves back from duty. The soul 
meanwhile is not at ease, but is liable to doubt, disquiet, 
and self-dissatisfaction. The soul's true peace is in ac- 
tivity ; its rest is onward and upward movement in the 
Saviour's foot-marks. And in a life of diligent and active 
15 



170 OBSTACLES TO CHRISTIAN OBEDIENCE. 



duty, one soon begins to realize the fulfilment of that 
promise, u My peace, — not as the world giveth," but, 
infinitely more, " my peace I give unto you." There is 
thus experienced a quietness and repose of spirit, a ful- 
ness of inward joy, a constant gladness of heart, from 
which he who has felt it will be unwilling to fall back 
upon the low and grovelling forms of ease to which so 
many cling. Thus is verified, in the experience of every 
active and faithful disciple, the promise of the Redeem- 
er, that he who denies himself for his sake shall receive 
a hundred fold in the life that now is, as well as eternal 
joy in the life to come. 

2. Another obstacle which stands greatly in the" way 
of Christian duty is the opinion and fashion of our com- 
panions, associates, and friends, or, in its more extend- 
ed form, general fashion and public opinion. This is so 
far right, and there are so many respects in which the 
disciple may go along with it, as to make deviation from 
it at the call of duty doubly arduous and painful. Yet 
there are points in which I suppose that every Chris- 
tian is sometimes called upon to part company with 
those whose sympathy and good opinion he most loves, 
and to assume an attitude in which he may incur tem- 
porary suspicion or disesteem from the many who take 
for their creed, " Whatever is is right." This is partic- 
ularly the case as to all subjects connected with the 
reform of existing and time-hallowed evils and sins. It 
is obvious that public opinion can never be in favor of 
any reform at its outset ; for the existing state of things 
is simply the expression and result of public opinion, — 
things are as they are, because men think them right, 
and are willing to have them so. But if the world is 
ever to grow better, if sin is to be put away and ever- 



OBSTACLES TO CHRISTIAN OBEDIENCE. 171 



lasting righteousness brought in, there must always be a 
higher, truer ground than that on which the many stand, 
and those who occupy it, no matter how conscientious- 
ly and prudently, will always incur reproach and oblo- 
quy. This is not a casual evil, or one that can in any 
way be prevented or obviated ; but it has its source in 
the very constitution of society, and every one who 
would follow Christ should make up his mind to meet 
and bear it. For, on all these questions of reform, there 
cannot, in the light of the nineteenth century, be any 
reasonable doubt what the mind and the law of Christ is. 
Every one knows, that, as to the Temperance reform, 
our Saviour's sympathy is not with those who minis- 
ter to their brethren's degradation, nor yet with those 
who love their own indulgence too well to forego it for 
a brother's good, nor yet with those who stand by 
and see the enormous guilt and woe in which drunken- 
ness is sinking its uncounted millions, without an effort 
or a God-speed for their rescue ; but with those who 
deny themselves what may make their brother sin, and 
who reach the hand to him to help him back to duty 
and to virtue. No one imagines now that the blessing of 
Christ rests on the battle-field or the garment rolled in 
blood ; but all know, as well as they know their alpha- 
bets, that only the peacemakers and those who over- 
come evil with good can shelter themselves behind his 
approval. Among us, at least, all believe at heart that 
by the law of Christ men are not chattels, but free-born, 
and that his Gospel would break every yoke and unbind 
every chain. And so long as these momentous subjects 
are open to controversy, every Christian is sacredly 
bound to utter himself, and to pledge his example, influ- 
ence, and effort, so far as they go, on the side of Christ 



172 OBSTACLES TO CHRISTIAN OBEDIENCE. 



and of humanity ; and I believe that, so far as we have 
failed thus to speak and do, there is reserved for us the 
sentence, " Inasmuch as ye did it not unto these my 
brethren, ye did it not unto me." 

And now let me ask (and I plead guilty myself), Is 
there one of us whom the tyranny of public opinion has 
not kept back from the free and honest discharge of 
his duty in some or all of these matters ? Has not 
fashion often sealed our lips, or forced from them timid, 
halfway utterances, if not utterances in which our words 
belied our hearts ? Think you that a Christian con- 
science ever prompted a sneer at the Temperance re- 
form or its blessed fruits, or held a man back from 
efforts to reclaim his fallen brethren ? In these days, 
is it possible that a man can, without conscious blas- 
phemy against the Gospel of peace, speak with appro- 
bation or with tolerance of such a war as at this moment 
is branding our nation with infamy ? Has any one of 
us ever given utterance to a pro-slavery sentiment, with- 
out knowing, at the moment, that he stood on expressly 
unchristian ground ? On these subjects it is timidity, a 
lack of moral courage, that has kept the great body of 
Christians silent and inactive, and has too often thrown 
into the hands of political agitators, scoffers, and unbe- 
lievers work which Christ has given to his Church to 
do, and which the Church must render a fearful account 
for not doing. 

To place us right, my friends, on these momentous 
subjects, to prevent us from perjuring ourselves before 
God by giving countenance to what we know is unchris- 
tian, we need to think much of our final account, or 
rather, of our ever-present Judge, — of the cloud of 
heavenly witnesses, ~- of their unseen, yet not unfelt, 



OBSTACLES TO CHRISTIAN OBEDIENCE. 173 



sympathy with every true and honest word and effort in 
behalf of virtue, peace, and freedom. We need to feel 
that we are members of a larger family, citizens of a 
more divine commonwealth, than that in which we 
dwell, — even of the Church of the redeemed and the 
brotherhood of angels. They, too, have a public opin- 
ion, universal and supreme, and its law is holiness, 
peace, and love. Let their favoring suffrage and un- 
changing sympathy raise us above the nickering breath 
of human praise. 

3. But I must pass to yet another obstacle in the 
way of Christian duty, and that is diffidence or reserve 
beyond the due bounds of Christian modesty. A few, 
indeed, assume places and offices of duty, for which 
Providence has given them neither the ability nor the 
call, carried beyond their right sphere by a zeal not 
according to knowledge. But to one who assumes too 
much, there are a score who undervalue their own ca- 
pacity of duty and of usefulness, shrink into a narrower 
sphere than Providence has marked out for them, and 
suppress efforts and influences which they would cheer- 
fully bestow, did they not deem themselves incapable of 
doing much or any good. They are, it may be, the 
slaves neither of ease nor of public opinion ; their only 
fear is of their own weakness and insignificance. They 
would throw themselves into this or that worthy cause 
or enterprise ; but they think that they shall burden or 
embarrass it, or at least, that their weight will add noth- 
ing to it. They would gladly be lavish of faithful coun- 
sel and sincere sympathy ; but the best that they can say 
they imagine will be as water spilt upon the ground. 
Words in season, words that might be the source of 
unspeakable consolation or moral good, mount to their 
15* 



174 OBSTACLES TO CHRISTIAN OBEDIENCE. 



lips, and deeds of brotherly love tremble at their fingers' 
ends ; but diffidence ties the tongue and palsies the arm. 
How many precious opportunities of doing good are 
thus lost ! How many of the truest charities are thus 
dropped on their passage from heart to heart ! How 
much is there of the purest, holiest purpose registered 
on high which leaves no earthly record ! 

I am well convinced that here lies a fruitful source 
of inactivity and backwardness in the duties of the 
Christian life. Let it be obviated by a just self-study 
and self-knowledge, by self-respect without pride, by 
careful heed to the indications of Providence, by the 
contemplation of our actual places and relations in so- 
ciety, and of what we, in altered circumstances, might 
reasonably expect of others in ours. Let us have 
faith, too, in the dictates of sincere Christian feeling. 
Let us believe that no word or deed, prompted by a 
devout and faithful heart, can fail of its fitting end and 
recompense. Let us embody in speech or write out in 
action every dutiful, Godward, and benevolent thought, 
and regard all such thoughts as voices from our Fa- 
ther, designating our appropriate path of effort and in- 
fluence. 

But it is time for me to close. I have spoken of 
some chief obstacles in the way of Christian duty. 
Against the love of ease let us set the inward peace 
bestowed by Jesus. To earthly fashion and opinion, 
when defective, let us oppose the sentiment and sym- 
pathy of heaven. Let false modesty retreat before the 
clear voice of duty. And now, at the holy table, we 
are to strengthen our souls and to gird up our faith 
anew by Christian sentiments. We shall feel them 
here, I trust, and shall find our souls glowing with grat- 



OBSTACLES TO CHRISTIAN OBEDIENCE. 175 



itude to God and Christ, and with lore for man. In our 
homes to-day, in busy scenes of life to-morrow, through 
the week, the month, the year, let us write out these 
sentiments in prompt and active duty, that thus, while 
we seek to have our hearts right, we may also make 
our works perfect before God. 



SERMON XV. 



BY JAMES WALKER. 



PERFECTION THE CHRISTIAN'S AIM. 



THEREFORE, LEAVING THE PRINCIPLES OF THE DOCTRINE OF CHRIST, 

let us go on unto perfection. — Hebrews vi. 1. 

t 

However unlikely or impossible it is that we shall 
ever meet with a perfect man on this earth, still, if we 
were to meet with one, we should see, that, instead of 
being a monster, he would be of all men the most entire- 
ly natural, the most truly human. It is no objection to 
this, that when we see one yielding to a burst of inor- 
dinate passion, or carried away by excessive love of 
fame or money or pleasure, we are apt to say, " See 
there human nature, — poor human nature." And so 
we do, in a certain sense of that word, and perhaps in 
the most common sense ; for the propensity in question 
is a human propensity, and in its existing and dispropor- 
tionate state of development it is natural that a man 
should give way to it. It is a development of our na- 
ture which makes the miser or the voluptuary, but not, 
I contend, a natural development of our nature ; and 
this is a distinction which a discriminating thinker will be 



PERFECTION THE CHRISTIANAS AIM. 177 



careful to observe. For there is a natural develop- 
ment of our nature and an unnatural development of 
our nature. The miser and the voluptuary become 
what they are in consequence of a development of hu- 
man nature ; but then it is in consequence of an unnat- 
ural, one-sided, distorted development of human nature. 
If human nature were developed naturally, that is to say, 
according to its just and intended order and proportions, 
there would be no misers or voluptuaries. The misers 
and the voluptuaries, — they are the monsters. 

But if a perfect man would be so natural in all his 
ways, if human perfection would be nothing but a full 
and perfect development of human nature in its just and 
natural order and proportions, how happens it, some 
may ask, that we never meet with some of these para- 
gons, — one, at least, in a nation, one in an age ? Let 
me answer this question by bringing into view an analo- 
gous and familiar fact. Go into a forest, — nay, go from 
forest to forest, — and you cannot find a single perfect 
tree, — perfect, I mean, in every branch, m every leaf. 
Yet such a tree would be only true to its nature, — 
that is, perfectly natural. Most clearly, if such a tree 
could be found, it would not be a monster. Perhaps I 
shall be told, that the impossibility of actually finding 
such a tree is owing to external influences, — to the soil, 
the frost, the insects, the mildew. And so it is. But so, 
too, it is with man. His nature, also, while in its course 
of development, comes under countless influences from 
without of a most diverse character and tendency, some 
of which begin to operate before he is born, some of 
which are wrought into his physical organization, and 
some of which essentially modify his education and the 
whole structure of his moral and social being. Now under 



178 PERFECTION THE CHRISTIAN'S AIM. 



such diverse and conflicting influences we do not say- 
that he will become wholly bad or wholly good ; but we 
do say that the character he forms will be a mixed char- 
acter ; it will not be a perfect character. The race 
growing up under such circumstances will not be divisi- 
ble into the perfectly good and the perfectly bad ; but 
every individual will be partly good and partly bad. 
Every man's character will be, and must be, and is, 
mixed. 

Accordingly Mr. Wesley has defined human perfec- 
tion as being " such a degree of the love of God and 
the love of man, such a degree of the love of justice, 
truth, holiness, and purity, as will remove from the heart 
every contrary disposition towards God or man ; and 
that this should be our state of mind in every situa- 
tion, in every circumstance of life." Even he, how- 
ever, admits that this perfection, at its greatest height, 
does not include absolute freedom from error or mis- 
take, nor exclude the possibility of continual progress in 
knowledge and holiness. We also find, that, as he grew 
older and wiser and saw more of the abuses to which 
the doctrine of perfection is liable, he was more and 
more disposed to modify it and soften it down ; until, 
in writing to one of his female disciples, who seems to 
have applied for advice under a desponding sense of her 
imperfection, he could say, — "Indeed, my judgment is, 
that (in this case particularly) to overdo is to undo ; 
and that to set perfection too high is the most effectual 
way of driving it out of the world." 

Still, it is not to be denied that the advocates even of 
a nominal and qualified perfectionism like this have done 
not a little to suggest and foster hurtful and dangerous er- 
rors. In the first place, they have led men to be content 



PERFECTION THE CHRISTIAN'S AIM. 



179 



with inward states, — with an ideal and dreamy sort of 
goodness ; as if nothing more were required of us than 
that our general intentions and affections should be right ; 
or as if, though our general intentions and affections are 
right, we may not sin in particular acts, or in particu- 
lar manifestations of feeling. Again, they have given 
countenance and currency to false and extremely un- 
safe views of temptation, by encouraging persons who 
think their hearts have been changed to believe that now 
they are in no danger ; that now they may expose them- 
selves without fear to any form of seduction ; as if 
we did not know that the best men are liable to temp- 
tation, and liable to it the more in the same proportion 
as they are thrown off their guard by an overweening 
sense of their superiority to it. Worse than all, perfec- 
tionism is apt to degenerate into Antinomianism, per- 
haps the most pestilent and stupendous of all the per- 
versions of religion, which teaches the indifference of 
outward conduct in the regenerate, making even injustice 
and sensuality to be no longer of the nature of sin when 
committed by those who have once been renewed by the 
grace of God. 

We set aside, therefore, all expectation of actually 
meeting with perfection among men ; we confidently be- 
lieve that under Christianity, as under Judaism, "there 
is not a just man upon earth that doeth good and sin- 
neth not." Still, there is nothing to hinder us from main- 
taining, as the Scriptures seem to do, the doctrine of 
human perfectibility. Perfectibility, as here used, dif- 
fers from perfection in this, that a man may be pronounc- 
ed perfectible though he never attains to perfection in 
fact, provided only that there is nothing in his nature 
itself to exclude the possibility of his perfection, and 



180 PERFECTION THE CHRISTIAN* S AIM. 



nothing in his circumstances to exclude the possibility of 
his continually going on towards perfection. 

While, therefore, we give up human perfection, we 
stand fast for human perfectibility. There are no arbi- 
trary or determinate bounds set to any man's progress 
in this life, whatever may be his condition and circum- 
stances. You cannot say, — "He can go so far, and 
there he must stop. He can go so far, and there he 
will meet a bar which will make further progress impos- 
sible." There is no such bar. The way is open to 
every one ; or, if not entirely open, there is nothing in 
the nature of the obstructions which makes them abso- 
lutely insuperable. I do not say, that in every instance a 
man can leap over these obstructions at an easy or a 
single bound. Sometimes he will be able to surmount 
them only by patience and toil ; and sometimes he will 
have to cut his way through them with courage and force. 
All I affirm is, that there is nothing in the nature of these 
obstructions, or of any other obstructions, which must 
needs bring his self-improvement to a stand for a day or 
an hour, so long as his faculties retain their natural vigor. 
Even while struggling with the difficulty in question, and 
before he has succeeded in mastering it, if he struggles 
manfully and in a true spirit, he is continually growing 
wiser and better and stronger in himself, through the new 
demand thus made on his energies, and the new exercise 
to which his faculties are thus put. I repeat it, then ; 
no limit is fixed or can be fixed to any man's progress, 
so long as his faculties retain their natural vigor, except 
by his own consent. I do not say simply, that man is a 
progressive being, but also, that he is a being capable of 
unlimited progress ; so that, of course, there is nothing 
too high for him to aim at, and nothing too good or too 
great to become the object of his aspirations. 



PERFECTION THE CHRISTIAN'S AIM. 181 



This is all which I understand the Scriptures to mean 
in the text, and in other passages where they enjoin it 
upon us to be perfect, to go on unto perfection, and to 
become perfect men in Christ Jesus. They do not hold 
up this perfection as something of which any Christian 
can as yet be personally conscious, or on which he can 
look back as already attained, but as the goal in the dis- 
tance after which all can and should continually aspire. 
" Not as though I had already attained," said an apos- 
tle, u or were already perfect ; but I follow after, if that 
I may apprehend that for which also I am apprehended 
of Christ Jesus. Brethren, I count not myself to have 
apprehended ; but this one thing I do, — forgetting 
those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto 
those things which are before, I press toward the mark 
for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ 
Jesus." 

So far, then, and only so far, can the Christian doc- 
trine of human perfectibility be fairly urged. Man is 
not only made capable of progress, but, with the aids 
which the Gospel supplies, of unlimited progress. The 
consequence is, that he can not only conceive of an ideal 
perfection, and see that perfection realized in Jesus 
Christ, but make it the object of his own aspirations, 
— not in his dreams alone, but in actual life, as there re- 
ally is nothing in the way of his continually advanc- 
ing towards it but the weakness or the perverseness of 
his own will. It is man himself who sets limits to his 
own wisdom and virtue ; and this he does by resting 
content with the degree of wisdom and virtue he has al- 
ready attained, or by not choosing to make the efforts 
or the sacrifices necessary to further progress. It is a 
false and mean shifting of the blame from himself on 
16 



182 



PERFECTION THE CHRISTIAN'S AIM. 



something else, to say that these limits were ordained 
by his nature, or his circumstances, or his Creator. It 
never is so. I do not suppose that all men, with their 
different capacities and opportunities, are capable of an 
equally rapid progress ; but I do suppose that they are 
equally capable of making some progress, and this, too, 
without limit, intermission, or end. There are no 
exceptions to this law. It is the universal condition 
of humanity. I know that we are not all spirit. We 
have a body as well as a soul, — a body with its grov- 
elling appetites and tastes,- and earthly tendencies, to 
weigh us down, and keep us from realizing in this 
life many of our brightest visions. But even while 
we continue connected with this body, and in some 
sense the slaves of it, we do not work like slaves teth- 
ered to a pillar, or a rock, which will let us go so far 
and no farther. We work rather like slaves with a clog ; 
we can go as far as we please, only we must carry our 
clog with us ; but with this cheering consciousness from 
day to day, that the greater our progress in wisdom and 
virtue, the less the clog is felt, until it is hardly percep- 
tible as an obstacle, or even as a burden, in our onward 
course. 

And here let it be distinctly understood, that when 
we speak of human perfectibility, we do not bring it in 
as a mere rhetorical nourish, or as a fine-sounding word 
which will help to point a moral, or turn a period. We 
mean all that we assert ; we bring into notice a sober fact, 
which has much to do with the direction and government 
of every man's daily conduct. We can go on continual- 
ly towards perfection, though we never arrive at it ; we 
can make it to be our goal in the distance, after which 
we are continually to aspire, and which in reality we can 



PERFECTION THE CHRISTIAN'S AIM. 183 



and ought continually to approximate. If we stop in the 
way, it is of our own accord, and not because we are 
obliged to stop. We can go on, if we please. Some, 
doubtless, can go on faster than others ; but all can go 
on. This is the great truth which lies at the bottom of 
every well-grounded and immortal hope ; which we are 
not at liberty to wink out of sight, or overlay and bury 
up under miserable commonplaces borrowed from super- 
ficial views of life and human nature, or the short-sighted 
cunning of this world. Bring me the man who has be- 
come so wise that he cannot become any wiser. You 
cannot do it. Bring me the man who has become so 
good that he cannot become any better. You cannot 
do it. You cannot fill a man's mind with knowledge 
until it cannot hold any more, as you can fill a vessel with 
water until it cannot hold any more. On the contrary, 
every new acquisition of truth only serves to enlarge his 
mind for the comprehension of more truth, so that the 
more he knows, the more is he in a condition to learn. 
And the same is likewise true of his progress in virtue. 
Because he mastered one bad habit yesterday, that has 
not destroyed, but only increased, his power to master 
another bad habit to-day ; because he put forth one 
new virtue yesterday, that has not destroyed, but only 
increased, his power to put forth another to-day ; and so 
on, without any assignable limits. The Bible fixes no 
limits ; our nature fixes none ; neither reason nor imagi- 
nation can fix any. But this ability to go on involves 
the obligation to go on. If he stops, no matter in what 
stage of his progress, he goes backward ; for in stop- 
ping he ceases to improve, and this is not merely not to 
obey, it is to disobey. He must go on ; and thus it is, 
and only thus, that the path of the righteous, at first 



184 PERFECTION THE CHRISTIAN'S AIM. 



dimly and uncertainly seen, grows brighter and brighter 
to the perfect day. 

Let me add, that I express the doctrine too tamely 
when I say that man is capable of unlimited progress. 
There burns within him an instinctive desire of growth, 
of ceaseless progress. This principle begins to manifest 
itself long before that of a cool and calculating selfish- 
ness. You see it in the boy, who is not satisfied unless 
he can spin his top, or fly his kite, better and better ; and 
he would feel this desire and find pleasure in its gratifi- 
cation, even if he dwelt alone on a desolate island, 
apart from all thoughts of interest or rivalship. Or if 
you call it rivalship, then I should say that every man 
is made, in the very constitution of his nature, to be the 
rival of his past self. We see it also in the artist, whose 
eye has caught glimpses of an unearthly beauty, which he 
strives to bring out and embody on the canvas or in mar- 
ble. And at last, perhaps, he succeeds ; but now his eye 
has caught glimpses of a beauty still more transcendent, 
and he is not satisfied until he can realize that. And 
thus it is that his ideal of excellence in art for ever flies 
before him ; but not in vain, as it only flies to beckon 
him on from excellence to excellence, and from glory to 
glory. The same principle takes effect also in our 
whole moral and spiritual life, for we are so made, that, 
if our minds are in a healthy state, we are never entirely 
satisfied with what we are. We are always seeking to 
rival and outdo our former selves ; but no barm is like- 
ly to come of emulation or of competition, so long as 
a man is his own rival ; or of ambition, if it does but 
consist in this inextinguishable thirst for excellence 
itself. 

There is, however, one danger to be apprehended 



PERFECTION THE CHRISTIAN'S AIM. 185 

from a too exclusive occupation of the mind on ideal vis- 
ions of excellence and perfection, which I ought to notice 
distinctly before I conclude. Persons of this descrip- 
tion, it has been said, "are deeply impressed with the 
idea that they are required to be perfect before God ; but 
their idea of perfection being altogether of an abstract 
and spiritual character, the zealous fulfilment of ordi- 
nary duties, and a conscientious attention to common 
transactions, seem to have no affinity to their object ; 
and hence they direct all their longings to a state of spir- 
itual and vague feeling, of which they know not either 
the form or limits, and the desire of which has no 
tendency but to unfit them for all effectual and suc- 
cessful discharge of the duties of life. It is, perhaps, 
the besetting error of those who are commonly de- 
nominated serious and pious men ; — and it is also not 
unfrequently the last refuge of those, who, having 
run, in preceding portions of their lives, a career of 
thoughtlessness and folly, at last betake themselves to 
this vain sighing after perfection, — instead of devoting 
themselves, as true wisdom would direct them, to a 
zealous and persevering reformation of their whole plan 
of life, and to an effectual discharge of every duty 
pointed out to them, — as active and social, as relig- 
ious and moral beings." 

There is much good-sense and force in this caution ; 
but it only shows that the instinctive desire of perfec- 
tion, which is wrought into our very constitution, may 
be misconceived, perverted, and abused. The idea of 
perfection is held up before us, not to be the object .of 
vain longings and sighings, but to cheer and sustain us 
in the many weary steps we must take in its pursuit. 
We are still to reflect, that we must actually traverse 
16 * 



186 PERFECTION THE CHRISTIAN'S AIM. 



with our own feet the almost measureless distance that 
separates us from the far-off goal ; and also, that if a 
man is to go round the globe, he cannot take any longer 
strides than if he were going to the next village. Be- 
sides, perfection, after all, is our ultimate object ; 
not our next and immediate object. Our next and 
immediate object, both as- men and as Christians, 
is always the faithful discharge of the common and 
obvious and present duties which press upon us in 
that particular sphere of activity, be it high or low, in 
which Divine Providence has placed us. 

Only a small and comparatively inconsiderable part of 
this unlimited progress in knowledge and holiness is 
to be wrought out here, even by the most diligent 
and best disposed. But we can begin it here ; per- 
haps I ought to say, we must begin it here ; for there 
may be something in the character of the first attain- 
ments of spiritual growth, in consequence of which, 
if we throw away our opportunity of making them here, 
it may never be offered to us again. Heaven itself, 
for aught we know to the contrary, may be a place in 
which it is impossible for a man to begin a life of faith 
and prayer. However this may be, is it not a glo- 
rious thought that we can begin the career of angels 
and archangels in these dwellings of dust ? How 
much more glorious the thought, that, when these dwell- 
ings of dust are dissolved, we shall " be clothed upon 
with our house which is from heaven." But who 
shall dare to anticipate, even in imagination, the stu- 
pendous disclosures that are to burst upon the dis- 
embodied spirit ? Of one thing, however, we may 
be sure ; a never-ending, ever-brightening career of 
knowledge, improvement, and happiness will still spread 



PERFECTION THE CHRISTIAN'S AIM. 187 



itself out before the followers of Christ, — the same 
which they began here. And along the innumera- 
ble ranks of the heavenly host, a voice will still be 
heard proclaiming the law, u Let us go on unto per- 
fection." 



SERMON XVI. 



BY CHANDLER ROBBINS. 



THE CHRISTIAN HOME. 

AS FOR ME AND MY HOUSE, WE WILL SERVE THE LORD. — 

Joshua xxiv. 15. 

This was the pious resolve of one of the greatest 
rulers and generals of the ancient Hebrews. His valor, 
his virtues, and his many patriotic services had secured 
the respect and gratitude of his nation, and acquired for 
him a powerful influence over the people. He employs 
this influence earnestly and faithfully on the side of re- 
ligion and virtue. He exhorts and persuades his coun- 
trymen to preserve the pure worship of the one living 
and true God, and to walk in all the statutes and ordi- 
nances of his law blamelessly and perseveringly. By 
every argument he can urge, by every motive he can 
offer, he seeks to convince them of the reasonableness, 
the safety, and the advantage of a religious life, and to 
induce them to pursue and maintain it. He recounts 
the signal favors of God to them and to their fathers, — 
appealing to their gratitude. He reminds them of the 
Divine promises and threatenings, — addressing, alter- 
nately, their hopes and their fears. And, to crown all, 



THE CHRISTIAN HOME. 



189 



— to give the last and strongest stamp to his wise admo- 
nitions, — he declares, publicly, solemnly, with all the 
emphasis that attaches to the word of a brave and reso- 
lute man, that, whatever might be the effect of his coun- 
sels, whatever the choice and habit of the rest of the 
people, as for himself and his own family, they should 
be devoted to the service of the Lord. 

And what was the effect of these sound admonitions, 
seconded by his faithful example ? That proud, vacil- 
lating, rebellious people, kindled to a noble religious 
enthusiasm, responded, with one consent, " God forbid 
that we should forsake the Lord ! We also will serve 
him, for he is our God." 

Nor was this merely a momentary transport of virtu- 
ous feeling, excited by the popularity of their venerable 
commander. It was a strong and determined purpose 
to imitate his worthy example. For when Joshua, who 
knew their national weaknesses well enough to make 
him suspicious of their sincerity, proceeded to put their 
resolution to the test, they stood the trial manfully. See- 
ing the hastiness and warmth with which they respond- 
ed to his first appeal, and fearing that their determination 
might be lightly, because suddenly, made, he changes 
his tone to one of deeper seriousness and caution, and 
says, — " Ye cannot serve the Lord, for he is a holy 
God ; he is a jealous God ; if ye forsake him, he will 
do you hurt and consume you." But still the people 
answered, in the confidence of their good purpose, — 
" Nay, but we will serve him." This did not quite sat- 
isfy their sagacious ruler, and he said unto them again, — 
" Ye are witnesses against yourselves that ye have cho- 
sen you the Lord to serve him." And again the people 
boldly replied, — " We are witnesses." This was even 



190 



THE CHRISTIAN HOME. 



once more repeated, and afterwards a solemn covenant 
was entered into between the people and their command- 
er, to the effect that they would hold to the promise they 
had made. And the historian further informs us, that 
" Israel did serve the Lord, all the days of Joshua, and 
all the days of the elders that overlived him." 

So deep, so strong, so enduring, is the influence of a 
devotedly righteous and religious man, — of one whose 
example is the stamp of his instructions. 

The saying of Joshua, which I have chosen as the 
subject of this discourse, embodies profound wisdom, 
no less than earnest piety. Here was a great man, 
whose whole life had been spent in offices of influence 
and command, at the very hour when his sway over the 
popular mind was the strongest and widest, expressing 
most emphatically his conviction, that, after all, he had 
but one narrow sphere in which his authority was para- 
mount and sure, — one little realm for whose right or- 
dering and religious fidelity he must hold himself answer- 
able, — one narrow kingdom entirely subject to his per- 
sonal control, — and that was his own household. He 
might command armies, he might give laws to prov- 
inces, he might execute judgment amongst the people, 
and rule in their assemblies ; but when it came to the 
question of moral and spiritual discipline, a much more 
limited horizon circumscribed his power, a far more 
humble domain was committed to his actual inspection 
and government. From the broad field of his conquests, 
from the vast spread of his rule, he came back to his 
own fireside ; he turned his thoughts to his own family, 
with the strong and wise conviction that his religious 
throne was there, — that the subjects of his direct moral 
empire were they who were born and bred within its 



THE CHRISTIAN HOME, 



191 



gates. There and over them he had authority. Here 
he could establish* and could maintain religious senti- 
ments and religious services. Within those walls he 
could keep alive a pure altar-fire of domestic worship, 
and enforce the statutes of the Almighty. He was mas- 
ter there, and his mastery should secure therein the ser- 
vice of God. Yea, if all the people of the land should 
corrupt their ways and decline from the fear of the 
Most High, though they should forsake his ordinances 
and set up strange gods in their dwellings, piety should 
still find one sacred retreat, religion one safe asylum, 
virtue one sure abiding-place ; — u As for me and my 
house, we will serve the Lord." 

Away from home, abroad, abroad, for a field of influ- 
ence, for a sphere of moral and religious activity, — is 
the cry of inexperience, is the longing of youthful ambi- 
tion, is the craving of vanity ; but true wisdom, I be- 
lieve, with all its breadth of virtuous aim, with all its 
expansion of philanthropic feeling, has learned and teach- 
es a different lesson, — that concentration and continuity 
of attention and effort is the law of nature and the great 
secret of moral and religious success. That the light of 
virtue is to be diffused from central points of intense 
and intenser radiance, as the natural light from burning 
suns and stars. 

In looking about for the best means for reforming 
society, for Christianizing the world, some men may 
select one instrument and some another, — some men 
may invent this theory, and some advocate that, — but 
the truly wise man will never overlook the family rela- 
tion^ will never undervalue the influence of home. On 
the contrary, the more he observes and the more he 
reflects, the greater importance will it assume in his 



192 



THE CHRISTIAN 'HOME. 



regard, the more beautiful and wise will this divine insti- 
tution appear, the more carefully will he devote himself 
to the religious ordering of his own household, the more 
earnestly will he urge upon others to turn their attention 
to domestic education. 

Grouped together, as we are, by God, in little com- 
munities, to whose few constituents we are more tender- 
ly bound than to all the world beside, in whose sphere 
our influence is unceasing and our example effectual, 
day after day, what an opportune and beautiful field of 
Christian effort, did w T e rightly consider it, is opened to 
us here, — to Christianize home ! to be a minister of 
God, an apostle of Jesus Christ, to one's kindred ! This 
is the natural way, if I may so speak, of propagating 
Christianity. And we may easily discover what degree 
of importance was attached to it in early Christian times, 
if we read the strong injunctions of the Apostle to the 
Gentiles upon those who held office and dignity in the 
church, to look well to their own households, to show 
piety at home, to regulate the family wisely, and train 
up their children in the nurture and admonition of 
the Lord. Indeed, those only were considered fit to 
teach and govern in the church who were competent 
religiously to instruct, and did religiously regulate, their 
own households. A most wise and salutary rule, — 
worthy to be applied in this and every age, not only to 
offices of honor in the church, but to every responsible 
position in life ; for if a man cannot, or will not, pru- 
dently and virtuously order the affairs of that lesser 
kingdom, how can he be securely trusted with those of 
a more extensive sphere ? That is, after all, the best 
test of his character, the best proof of his moral influ- 
ence and power. 



THE CHRISTIAN HOME. 



193 



There appears to be an increasing tendency, at the 
present day, to undervalue domestic influences and 
enjoyments, in comparison with other means of im- 
provement and happiness. Many of the habits of what 
is called a highly civilized community have the effect 
to loosen the bonds of kindred and diminish the attrac- 
tions of home. The demands of fashionable society 
occupy more and more of the time and interest of those 
who live in its enchanted atmosphere. A perpetual 
routine of formal visiting draws many away from the 
family circle. A growing passion for more exciting 
pleasures vitiates the pure and healthy taste which is 
gratified by simple, fireside enjoyments. Social obliga- 
tions and engagements rapidly increase in number and 
complexity. The variety of accomplishments which are 
esteemed essential to a good education is continually 
enlarging, and claiming more thought and time which 
could otherwise be bestowed upon the duties and pleas 
ures of the family ; whilst literary and scientific associ- 
ations and lectures, and musical entertainments, have 
multiplied almost without limit, enticing the young and 
the old, fathers and mothers, to spend abroad as many 
evenings as can be spared from other exciting amuse- 
ments and assemblies. 

I think that w r e already see and feel the evils which 
are resulting from this tendency. They are variously 
manifested in the characters of the young of the rising 
generation, whose greatest deficiencies are precisely those 
which could only be remedied by a larger and longer ap- 
pliance of the influences and the education of a well-gov- 
erned home. The unfolding mind and heart of an immor- 
tal being need more shade, more careful and delicate train- 
ing, more judicious and gentle restraint, in order to their 
17 



194 



THE CHRISTIAN HOME. 



most beautiful and healthy development, than they are 
accustomed nowadays to receive. The nurture and man- 
agement of children are too often delegated by parents 
to others. They are too apt to consider that they have 
discharged their obligation when they have provided the 
best masters whose services they can afford to purchase, 
and sent their children to reputable schools. Such 
parents have a very imperfect appreciation of the duty 
which God has laid upon them, as well as of the loss of 
satisfaction and happiness which themselves sustain. 
No time can be better improved than that which is 
devoted to the culture and discipline of a young mind 
and heart ; none can be occupied in any way that can 
afford more heartfelt gratification, both in the passage and 
in the remembrance. Why not ourselves stand in the 
relation of teachers, moral, intellectual, religious, to our 
children ? Why not employ ourselves more constantly 
in awakening their curiosity and exciting their interest in 
behalf of what is useful, beautiful, true, and good ? Is it 
because we have no time ? But how is it that we have 
no time ? Have we yet systematized our various occupa- 
tions as well as we might ? Are there not some of them 
which are very trivial in comparison with this ? But 
how is it that we have no time ? Has not every day 
with many of us its wasted minutes ? Does every hour 
carry back to the chancery of heaven a good account of 
its use ? Could we not find time, if we were willing to 
undertake the labor, — if we felt as desirous as we ought 
to feel to discharge our duty ? Could we not find time, 
if we would dispense with some other occupations and 
amusements, some of which are of no real benefit, and 
some of which, perhaps, are of a questionable moral 
complexion ? 



THE CHRISTIAN HOME. 



195 



I have often admired, even with a feeling approaching 
to reverence, the sentiment and habit, in relation to the 
education of his children, of one of the most remarka- 
ble geniuses and scholars and voluminous writers of the 
last age. " I deny myself," he said, u my vesper meal, 
to work in my study, but I cannot deny myself the inter- 
ruption that comes from my children." He found time, 
amidst a number of avocations and a press of duties 
which might appall the most industrious of us, to super- 
intend, and even to conduct, the intellectual and moral 
culture of his offspring. And he could do this, be- 
cause he acted upon this principle, — I would call it 
generous and noble, if it were not naturally prompted by 
a father's love : — " I will give to my dear children the 
morning pleasures and the instructions of my morning 
hours," — the brightest and best of the day, • — " I can 
later work and read." He meant that, if either task 
must be done with greater heaviness and under greater 
pressure of resolution, it should not be the delightful and 
sacred duty of educating them. If either must suffer, 
he would surfer ; they should not, at his hands. 

We are accustomed to hear much said of the value 
of maternal influence. And it can never be too highly 
appreciated. The mother is the centre of home. God 
has virtually placed the sceptre of that little kingdom in 
her hand. She may not be called the head, but the 
heart she is, and really, though not legally nor nominal- 
ly, the head. She, if any one, can shape the destiny 
of future generations. She, if any one, can raise up a 
race of true women and men. She, if any one, can 
furnish our churches with their brightest ornaments and 
rear the living pillars of the state. And if she has 
been faithful, there is not a brave and strong man battling 



196 



THE CHRISTIAN HOME. 



with the world, who, in the hour of his sternest strife, 
is not made braver and stronger by the power of her 
influence, or by the memory of her love. 

" They sing us yet an ancient strain 
Of him who with the Theban strove, — 
The child of earth, who fought in vain 
Against the child of Jove, 
Bat still, when by his victor pressed, 
Fell back upon his mother's breast, 
And gathered from his source of life 
New vigor for the strife. 
And thus, when half the spirit shrinks 
In conflict with its giant foes, 
And like Antaeus, almost sinks 
Beneath fate's heavy blows, 
And grief hath made the strong man wild, 
Or feeble as a little child, 
Then turns the stricken soul again 
To her who sung it hopeful songs, 
And cheered it in the fight with pain, 
And armed it for the war of wrongs, 
And sent it, with its powers unfurled, 
To battle with the world, 
Till love or memory does its part 
To heal the bruises of the heart, 
And sends it strengthened back, to dare 
The struggle with despair." 

But there is danger lest, by lauding too highly and 
speaking too frequently of the mother's duties at home, 
we may lead some to overlook and undervalue the duties 
and influence of the other parent in his family, — lest we 
afford excuse for the neglect — the lamentable, often 
shameful neglect — of the father in .regard to domestic 
discipline and government, particularly the moral and 
religious control of his home. 



THE CHRISTIAN HOME. 197 

I have somewhere seen a beautiful painting, repre- 
senting a Christian mother, at the resurrection of the 
just, ascending, in company with her children, from the 
opening graves, — ascending towards the glorious pres- 
ence of God, down from whose invisible throne rays of 
mild yet brilliant light are streaming upon the upturned 
faces of the lovely group, in whose expression the artist 
has skilfully blended the various emotions of awe, curi- 
osity, wonder, delight, humility, trust, and love. It is a 
picture well calculated to produce a serious and yet 
pleasing impression. But one feels, as he beholds it, 
that there is something wanting, a painful void, an unac- 
countable omission, which fills the mind with question- 
ing and regret. It represents to us, it is true, many 
ideas that are consolatory and delightful to the Christian 
in his anticipations of the future world. It shows us that 
death does not dissolve for ever the pleasant and hallowed 
ties that bind us together here. It shows us that the 
deep and pure affection subsisting between the Christian 
parent and the virtuous child will survive the mysterious 
change. It depicts, also, forcibly and happily, the 
enduring influence which a religious mother exerts over 
her offspring, — leading them securely through all the 
perils of 'this world, and not leaving them till it has con- 
ducted them in safety to heaven. But still it does not 
satisfy. Still the feeling returns, that there is a melan- 
choly void in the group. Where is the other parent ? 
Why is not the father there ? Why has the painter 
portrayed the family group without the image of its natu- 
ral head ? Was it merely accidental ? Was it because, 
in his opinion, it affected the beauty of his design ? 
Was it painted for some father who had lost his chil- 
dren and their mother ? Or has it a deeper moral ? 
17 * 



198 



THE CHRISTIAN HOME. 



Was it his object to typify the fact, that the father is 
more seldom interested and employed in the religious 
education of his children than the mother, — that he is 
less often found, at death, to be advancing in that strait 
and narrow way that leadeth upward to the throne of 
God ? 

These are questions which I will not take it upon 
myself to answer. Every father can answer them for 
himself. 

- I am well aware that it is generally said by fathers, 
in palliation of the neglect to which I allude, that the 
unavoidable cares of business, and the anxious labor of 
providing worldly portions for their family, necessarily 
engross so much time and thought as to leave them little 
opportunity for domestic enjoyments and duties. Nor 
am I disposed to deny, that in some cases this may be a 
good and substantial excuse. But let us not be deceived. 
Let us honestly and rationally examine into its validity, 

— let us, like men of truth, see how far it is sound and 
righteous in our own case. 

Is all this labor and care and anxiety of business ab- 
solutely necessary to the best welfare of our families ? 
Is it really for their sake, and their sake only, that so 
many fathers are thus enslaved to the cares of accumu- 
lation ? Is it really for the good of their children that 
so many are toiling to become rich ? Is it only a wise 
forethought for their best interests that leads so many 
to forego the moral improvement and innocent enjoy- 
ment of their families to-day, that they may provide 
them with abundance of worldly possessions against an 
uncertain to-morrow ? I wish it could be put directly 
to the consciences of those to whom I refer, whether 
it be really the generous and affectionate thought for 



THE CHRISTIAN HOME. 



199 



their families that goads them on in their chase after 
wealth, separately from the base motives of pride, 
vanity, avarice, and emulation. Or, if the motive be 
wholly generous, I should like to have their candid and 
deliberate judgment upon the question, whether such a 
procedure be wise, — whether they and their children do 
not lose by it incalculably more than they gain, even if 
they are successful in all their plans and toils of accu- 
mulation. Let every father answer these questions as 
a father, as a wise, conscientious, affectionate father 
should, and there cannot be a doubt to what conclusion 
he will arrive. Let him answer them as in the presence 
of God and in view of immortality, and the result cannot 
but be an increase of true happiness to his family and to 
himself, — a substantial improvement in his own charac- 
ter and in the moral condition of his household. 

Give us Christian homes. Fathers, mothers, chil- 
dren, give us Christian homes, and we will give you 
a happy country, good government, a prosperous and 
peaceful age, sure and rapid social progress, quiet, 
steady, enduring moral and religious reform. Give us 
Christian homes, and we will soon give you all for 
which philanthropists are laboring, and the masses groan- 
ing, and the moral creation travailing. But let the do- 
mestic altar be forsaken, let family discipline be neglect- 
ed, let household government and order be disregarded, 
and we shall have a rotten commonwealth, a dissolute 
and disorderly people, a prevalence of social wrongs, a 
religious paralysis and dearth, in spite of all our legisla- 
tion, all our preaching, all our philanthropic movements, 
and all our beautiful systems of popular education. 

Give us Christian homes. How can we believe in 
the power of a religion that cannot do this, — this, to 



200 



THE CHRISTIAN HOME. 



which the very force of our natural affections doth of 
itself so strongly impel ? How can we have confidence 
in the efficacy of that Christianity in a wider and more 
discouraging sphere, which fails of its benign effect in 
this narrower and more favorable field ? How can we 
give our heartiest sanction to that specious religion or 
that specious philanthropy, which, professedly aiming to 
make the whole earth a paradise of love, forgets to pre- 
pare an Eden in the very spot where it abides ? 

Give us Christian homes. Earth affords no worthier 
employment ; the true heart can find no happier duty ; 
humanity urges no prior claim ; Christ points to no holier 
work ; our Heavenly Father smiles upon no more ac- 
ceptable service. 



SERMON XVII. 



BY GEORGE E. ELLIS. 



HOUSEHOLD IMPEDIMENTS. 

FOR I AM COME TO SET A MAN AT VARIANCE AGAINST HIS FA- 
THER, AND THE DAUGHTER AGAINST HER MOTHER, AND THE 
DAUGHTER-IN-LAW AGAINST HER MOTHER-IN-LAW. AND A MAN'S 
FOES SHALL BE THEY OF HIS OWN HOUSEHOLD. — Matthew X. 

35, 36. 

This is one of a few passages coming from the lips 
of Jesus Christ which many devout readers marvel at, 
wondering what they mean, and wishing that they 
were not found in a sacred record. There seems some- 
thing so opposite to the gentle, affectionate, and harmo- 
nious influences of true religion in these domestic alien- 
ations and antipathies, that the passage which we have 
read has disturbed many persons, who find relief in pass- 
ing it over. Now there are manifest reasons, too evi- 
dent to require mention, why it is not well for us to 
wish any passage out of the New Testament which we 
find in it. It is not well for us to allow any exceptions 
to the reverence and confidence of our minds for all that 
it contains. Passages which are stumbling-blocks to 
our reason or our faith must be carefully and candidly 
examined ; we must connect some meaning with them, 
and, instead of leaving them to be a constant anxiety to 



202 



HOUSEHOLD IMPEDIMENTS. 



us, we must seek, not only to remove from them their 
offence or cause of misgiving, but we must make them in- 
structive too. What, then, shall we sa) r of this passage? 
The most common explanation of this passage has been 
found in referring it to the case of the first Christians, 
under the persecutions and trials of every kind to which 
their new faith subjected them. Households would be 
divided in those early days, and a believer would find him- 
self associated in the closest ties of life with unbelievers. 
In a pagan or a Jewish family, there might be one Chris- 
tian convert, — father or mother, son or daughter, — and 
the consequence would be that the faith of the convert 
would be subjected to the most harassing of all trials, 
the daily vexation of the hottest strife where there 
should be the sweetest peace. Discord would thus 
make religion to be a sword of division between hearts 
which shared all other interests in common. 

Another explanation has been offered for this passage 
in supposing it to be prophetic of the sects and contro- 
versies by which Christians themselves would be divided. 
The fact that many households through so many ages 
have been thus alienated by sectarianism, by religious dis- 
cords and variances among their members, has doubtless 
suggested the idea that the Saviour prophesied such a 
state of things, and that this is the meaning of the passage 
which we have read. But this latter interpretation ap- 
pears forced and unreasonable. The fact on which it 
proceeds is not of sufficient consequence, nor of such 
serious effect, as to fill out the sense of the passage. 
The former interpretation, which refers its meaning to 
times of persecution, is doubtless a just one. But the 
passage has not ceased to be without application in our 
peaceful times. 



HOUSEHOLD IMPEDIMENTS. 



203 



It is generally true, that those passages of Scripture 
which bear with their fullest force upon ancient times 
and a different state of things have a softened application 
to all times and to the ordinary condition of human 
affairs. There are now places, there always will 
be places until the complete conversion of the world, 
in which the literal meaning of this text will be fulfilled. 
And there is a softened application of the Saviour's 
language which meets the realities of life to all who 
w T ould be his disciples now. We need not wish that 
text removed from the New Testament, or stumble at 
the assertion which it contains as if it were harsh and 
severe and forbidding. True, there is no longer a literal 
application of the words to Christians in general. The 
devout reception and obedience of the Christian faith 
will not alienate the affections of parents and children, 
of mothers and daughters, nor divide the members of a 
household by hostilities so as to make them foes. That 
was one of the most trying and afflictive incidents of 
the ages of persecution. Still, for us the text has a 
meaning and a milder application. Without doing vio- 
lence to the sense of the passage, we may regard it as 
bringing to our minds the severe trial to which domestic 
life and all the familiarities of our household relations sub- 
ject our Christian faith and duty. " A man's foes," said 
the Saviour's calm announcement, u shall be they of his 
own household." To us he repeats the lesson, and ex- 
perience repeats it too, somewhat as in this milder form, 
— Your own domestic life will present the severest trials 
to your faith and obedience. 

And is there not truth enough in that assertion to 
make it a valuable part of the sacred record for all time ? 
Were I asked what is the hardest and most needful work 



204 



HOUSEHOLD IMP E DIME XT S. 



of a Christian, a disciple of Jesus Christ, I should 
say that it is to be a Christian at home, in the nearest 
relations and affinities and familiarities of daily life. 
There are in those relations peculiar and constant ex- 
posures of the heart and character. "What we call the 
great obligations of a Christian to others are occasional 
and temporary. Temptations and large trials come only 
at intervals, — they are prominent and remarkable mat- 
ters, — and we can lay out our strength to resist them or 
to bear them. We are all of us better furnished for the 
emergencies of our lives, than to meet with faithfulness 
its ordinary tenor, its little matters, its trifles, its con- 
stant and habitual exposures. We can easily guard our- 
selves against great sins, — we find a difficulty in meet- 
ing small and incessant duties. There is, indeed, great 
meaning still left for us all in the text, which says that a 
man's foes shall be they of his own household. Not 
that any member of any household pretending to Chris- 
tian faith or feeling would of set purpose oppose any 
other member of it in the attempt to live as a Christian. 
This may not be true. But it is true that, in any house- 
hold and in all domestic relations, the incessant trials 
of principle and affection, the daily tasks of recti- 
tude and grace, put all Christian principles to their 
severest test. Our risks are as numerous here as are 
our words and deeds. 

All the duties of a Christian may be classed under 
three particulars, which embrace all his relations to God 
and man. The first is his own heart's culture, privately 
and all alone, by means of prayer, meditation, and self- 
training. The second is the whole range of his obliga- 
tions to his fellow-men at large in the open world. The 
third is in his domestic concerns, in the sympathies and 



HOUSEHOLD IMPEDIMENTS. 



205 



cares and constant intercourse of household life. Now 
I say, and I say it with emphasis, that the hardest part 
of a Christian's duty lies in this third division, this last 
portion of his great obligations, — that which is found 
in the constant familiarities of home, in the household of 
daily fellowships. It is comparatively easy to fulfil the 
most public and the most private duties of a Christian 
course in life ; it is in the midway tasks that the labor is 
incessant and the exposure constant. 

It is comparatively easy to train the thoughts to their 
spiritual exercise at set times in the lonely breast ; to 
use certain hours of the heart's privacy for meditation 
and prayer ; to cast the light of God's truth inward, till 
it brighten the chambers of the soul, and convince of sin, 
of righteousness, and of judgment. In the secrecy of our 
solitary moments we are most able to be perfectly sin- 
cere, and when we take God alone for our witness and 
our judge, duty lies out all plain and inviting to the so- 
bered mind. 

It is comparatively easy, too, to fulfil the great public 
duties of a Christian life. The law of honesty and char- 
ity in the open world is so simple, so easily learned, so 
readily obeyed by the honest and right-principled man, 
that his path is all open before him. In our public rela- 
tions with our fellow- men, a little caution will put us on 
our guard against the exhibition of our besetting infirmi- 
ties. Our hearts are not all revealed there ; we are not 
constantly exposed nor incessantly tried. Intervals for 
relief, opportunities for rest from our large conflicts in 
life, enable us to learn prudence, and to be ordinarily in- 
fluenced by the better principles of our character. 

But it is not so amid the daily familiarities, the inces- 
sant, unrelaxing obligations and exposures of our house- 
18 



206 



HOUSEHOLD IMPEDIMENTS. 



hold lives. There our duties are all multiplied ; they 
are the most severe, the most exacting, often the 
most trying to patience, and never yielding intervals of 
rest. It is hard to be a Christian at home. It seems 
as if the duty might be easy, but it is hard, and it is all 
the more difficult in the more uniform and ordinary tenor 
of home life. In the emergencies and extraordinary 
concerns of a household, such as sickness and bereave- 
ment, the Christian task of conduct and behaviour be- 
comes more easy, because Christian feelings and sympa- 
thies are then intensely excited, the usual current of life 
is disturbed, and amid the familiarities of existence a 
changed feature is introduced. But in our home re- 
lations, day by day the stream must flow incessant from 
the heart ; and how hard it is to keep that stream without 
a ripple, — always pure, and never failing in its supply of 
gentle, sincere, and loving sympathies ! Some happy 
constitutional temperaments may make this duty a little 
more easy, while to other natural dispositions the dif- 
ficulty is increased. But to all persons the difficulty is 
intelligible enough to give much meaning to the passage 
which speaks of a Christian's risk and trial in the house- 
hold of his daily life. 

Yet, after all, the impediments are not of a kind to ad- 
mit of being accurately defined. . To state them at length 
would be but to enumerate many homely truths, and to 
enter into particulars to which there would be no end in 
detail or explanation. The difficulty in general lies in 
this, — that amid all the trifles, and familiarities, and 
vexations, and incessant duties of daily life, it is hard to 
keep the mirror of the heart so smooth and bright that 
it shall always cast the reflection of heavenly peace and 
love which is the Christian picture of duty. Manyper- 



» 



HOUSEHOLD IMPEDIMENTS. 



sons feel a shrinking reluctance to speak even of religious 
wants or feelings, or to profess religious purposes, to 
their partners in life or to their children. Probably the 
majority of professed Christians, if they were asked 
whether they were efficiently helped in the work of a 
Christian life by the members of their household, would 
say that they were not. The reason must be simply 
this, — the familiarities of daily life so exclusively relate 
to earthly things, that there is an awkwardness and a 
restraint in every attempt, made of set purpose, to min- 
gle with them spiritual and heavenward concerns. Where 
we are wont to measure time by days and weeks, it is 
hard to introduce with equal familiarity the measurements 
of eternity. Where we meet repeatedly each day to share 
our bodily sustenance, the bread of heaven and the water 
of life may be expressive symbols, but they have the dis- 
advantage as greater realities. The manifest duty to make 
home a pleasant place seems to conflict with the serious- 
ness which is generally received as the prominent feature 
of religion. The little crossings of temper and uneasi- 
ness ruffle the peace of the breast, and render it difficult 
for us always to believe that we are in training for an 
angelic life. We talk so much together about trifles, 
that the introduction of the most elevating subjects seems 
too severe a change for our thoughts to undergo from 
one hour to another. Probably the place of all others 
where the great matters of science are least discussed is 
in a household, and the same reason why those high 
themes are excluded applies all the more forcibly to relig- 
ious themes. A home may be brightened by love, and 
sanctified by the general influence of piety. But the 
details of religion are most difficult where the drapery of 
the spirit is hidden by the clothing of the mortal frame. 



208 



HOUSEHOLD IMPEDIMENTS. 



We are so associated as creatures of the earth, that we 
have but a general sense of our heavenly relations. 
Such incessant familiarity about earthly things bars out 
the more vivid view of heavenly things. The strength 
of the affections which unite us as mortals makes very 
unwelcome to us the thought which translates these bod- 
ily shapes to the misty and dim regions of the far-off 
land of spirits. 

This, in general, is a statement of the difficulty beset- 
ting a complete Christian life in a household. Reflection 
and effort may dispel the difficulty in its several partic- 
ulars. It is not insurmountable, but it is an actual trial, 
attended by many embarrassments, and involving a 
large measure of the whole task of a disciple of Jesus 
Christ. 

And as I have said of the difficulty itself, that it 
scarcely admits of being particularly defined, so I may 
say of the method of overcoming it, that it is a matter 
upon which no definite rules of duty can be laid down 
which may follow it into all its details. To say that we 
must endeavour to live and act religiously in our most fa- 
miliar relations is but to repeat a lesson from the primer 
of our childhood, which then professed to us in vain, as 
larger treatises have professed to us since, to make religion 
easy. To say that we must artificially and by restraint 
force in religion within the household would be like bid- 
ding us to converse in a foreign language. These imped- 
iments, however, great and undefined as they are, come 
under that plain great law of the whole life of a Chris- 
tian, that where our risk is greatest, our care should be 
most incessant. Each attempt of duty lightens its burden. 
By simply bearing in our minds a good purpose which 
we strongly desire to fulfil, we often wear our way on to 



HOUSEHOLD IMPEDIMENTS. 



209 



its accomplishment. There are some good ends which 
we may gain through any obstacle by dwelling much 
upon duty in respect to them, and repeating little efforts 
towards them. Thus slowly, but effectually, can we sur- 
mount the impediments which the incessant familiarities of 
household life present to a Christian. We must realize 
them for what they are ; we must turn the light of truth 
full upon them ; we must not fear them, but, committing 
them to the charge of a good conscience and a sincere 
heart, with patient labors multiplied and never discour- 
aged, we must spread over an advancing life a pleas- 
ant task, which we shall love to see all completed at the 
close of life. 

The course of thought which we have thus pursued 
admits of direct practical improvement. The greatest 
obstacles which a uniform religious spirit has to encoun- 
ter are found in the incessant exposures of domestic life. 
Yet there, after all, true Christian piety may wear its 
loveliest aspect, and best pursue its ministrations of af- 
fection, and train our souls for the heavenly mansions. 
Nothing will give us so just a view of the real substance, 
value, and design of true religion as will an earnest practi- 
cal endeavour to make it the guide of our household life. 
That endeavour will strip religion of the vague and vision- 
ary character which it has to many minds. It will make 
it less a matter of dreamy speculation and of formal ob- 
servance, which are the two follies that have most peril- 
led true piety. What value can attach to a creed which 
cannot be made to appear in those scenes of life where 
the heart and the conscience are most exercised ? What 
good influence can be ascribed to the formularies of re- 
ligious belief and observance, if they are written merely 
upon the door-posts outside of the dwelling, and have no 
18 * 



210 



HOUSEHOLD IMPEDIMENTS. 



authority within ? The effort to exhibit and really to pos- 
sess a Christian temper and a kind heart about the con- 
cerns of household life will be a better test of absolute 
religion and of the essentials of revealed religion than 
criticism or philosophy can supply. It will never fail to 
indicate how much we may subtract from w T hat we have 
been taught to regard as the essentials of religion, and 
how much we must add to the conditions which embrace 
all that the most rigid interpreters have ever thought to 
exact of disciples. 

It is said by St. John, that, after one of the discourses 
of Jesus, " every one went to his own house." Doubt- 
less the hearts and minds of many whom he addressed 
were then filled with reflections similar to those which 
we have now pursued. The true service of God, the 
true lessons of duty and of love, come with their most 
constant and impressive force to the mind in the house- 
hold relations of life. There are gathered the objects of 
affection and of all responsible obligation. Parents and 
children are there to share the tenderest sympathies or 
the most wearing burdens of a mortal existence. Relig- 
ion is there reduced to its very essence as a law of con- 
trol and of culture. Whatever the bigot or the the- 
orist may define to be essential, as a matter of creed 
or doctrine, will pass as of but littie moment, when the 
test of daily action with the most intimate companions 
of our life is applied to it. There, too, in the household, 
springs up in attached hearts the hope of a reunion 
in a brighter world than this. That hope can live only 
on the purest affections. It can feed only upon what 
first brings it into being. Estrangement and discord, 
faithlessness and vice, in either member of a household, 
will throw a heavier cloud over that hope than will 



HOUSEHOLD IMPEDIMENTS. 



211 



any doubt of reason or any misgiving of the mind. 
Over the graves of those whom we have loved and 
faithfully served, with whom our earthly existence has 
been a pleasant fellowship of Christian experience, 
the hope of a restored home in the heavenly man- 
sions asks no logic or argument to sustain it. It takes 
hold of the heart with a power which a personal reve- 
lation from the skies could scarcely strengthen. 

These reflections, all of which will be expanded and 
enlarged upon farther than our limits have allowed us by 
every one who has admitted them to his own mind, will 
satisfy us that for the impediments which true Christian 
piety and love encounter in a household there is abundant 
compensation. Duty here, as everywhere else, wins by 
its performance a reward proportioned to its toil and 
difficulty. It comes within the large Christian promise, 
that " to him that overcometh it shall be given to eat of 
the tree of life." 



SERMON XVIII 



BY GEORGE PUTNAM. 
[delivered june I, 1345.*] 



CHRISTIAN EDUCATION. 

WHEN I CALL TO REMEMBRANCE THE UNFEIGNED FAITH THAT IS 
IN THEE, WHICH DWELT FIRST IN THY GRANDMOTHER LOIS, AND 
THY MOTHER EUNICE ; AND I AM PERSUADED THAT IN THEE 

also. — 2 Timothy i. 5. 

This text contains no doctrine of the Christian reve- 
lation. It is never appealed to in controversy between 
one system'of divinity and another. It is never quoted 
to establish or elucidate any article of belief. It was 
private in its reference, and is neutral in its bearing, — 
touches no open question of faith or practice. I do not 
select it now as the basis of any religious opinion or 
ethical principle. Its whole purport and value consist 
in its associations, — in the feeling and thoughtfulness 
which it may awaken in our own breasts. I invoke your 
more hallowed imaginations, and that gracious sentiment 
which couples religion with home and household and early 
days, to give to the text a meaning, ■ — a meaning more 

* As this sermon sets forth the view which constitutes the main 
proposition of Dr. Bushnell's "Two Discourses on Christian Nur- 
ture," it may be proper to remark that it was preached two years 
before those discourses were published. — Editor. 



CHRISTIAN EDUCATION. 



213 



for the heart than for the intellect. It is a text that means 
much to us, or means nothing, according to our mood. 

It is pleasant to find the great Apostle, in the midst 
of those weighty instructions and grave counsels which 
were for the unfolding of the Gospel and the building 
up of the Church, descending, if it be a descent, to speak 
of those personal ties and early influences which so 
much shape the issues, though they share not the digni- 
ties, of human life. I like to hear the grave and aged 
Paul, with a mind intent on highest truth, and the great 
cares, perils, and designs that belonged to the apostolic 
era, addressing Timothy, his own beloved son in the 
faith, as he tenderly calls him, whom he had chosen to 
be his companion and successor in the work which he 
must soon surrender, and to whom he was now giving 
solemn and affectionate charge how to conduct the 
great ministry that was laid upon him, — I like to hear 
the chief Apostle remind his young friend and fellow- 
laborer, in such terms of homely simplicity, of the 
human origin of his - unfeigned and happy faith, and of 
the ties by which it was bound up with domestic memo- 
ries and filial obligations in that natural union of the 
heavenly and the human which makes religious faith 
clearer and stronger and homebred affections more sa- 
cred and salutary. 

I like that unimportant and unnoticed text of Scrip- 
ture better than many a verse on which the chief 
questions of theology are thought to hinge. " I call to 
remembrance the unfeigned faith that is in thee, which 
dwelt first in thy grandmother Lois, and thy mother 
Eunice ; and I am persuaded that in thee also." There 
is a something in the very names, — the homely and 
old-fashioned names, rather unfamiliar and unusual in 



214 



CHRISTIAN EDUCATION. 



this generation, — there is a something in the very 
sound of them, which brings up to the fancy, and 
indeed to the memory of many of us, bygone times and 
scenes, when there was a more earnest, if not always 
judicious, religious nurture of the young in the domestic 
fold than in our day; times of a more primitive simplic- 
ity in faith and in manners ; times of a more rural and 
artless life, when age exercised more authority and ob- 
tained more reverence, when Sabbaths were strictly 
kept, and the church had a greater sanctity investing its 
walls, and the Bible was loved and honored and read 
day by day, as God's very word, the law of the young 
and the comfort of the old ; times of a positive and 
unquestioned faith, when the voice of prayer went up 
daily at almost every fireside, and men believed in the 
God of their Bibles, instead of the cold and impersonal 
abstractions of metaphysics, and in a veritable Provi- 
dence, instead of natural laws and mechanical processes, 
to which modern science, passing wholly beyond its ap- 
propriate sphere of induction, is striving presumptuously 
to commit the government of the world and the destiny 
of our souls. Possibly those particular relationships 
which the Apostle mentions may be the very ones to 
bring up to some of us a picture of such times from 
our own early experience or observation. To the mid- 
dle-aged the remembrance of a grandmother, and to those 
who are old now the remembrance of a mother, may 
call to mind a race very different from ourselves in 
Christian ideas, observances, and modes of influence, 
as w r ell as in their whole aspect and manner of life. 
And our text, with its homely allusions, and those old 
names in it, now almost obsolete, I think must bring up 
to almost all minds an image of other times and old- 



CHRISTIAN EDUCATION. 215 

fashioned Christian homes, which they have heard of 
with interest, or else, perhaps, remember with a fond 
and tender and reverent recollection. All honor and 
reverence to the memory of that bygone generation, — - 
the men and women of a strict and simple life, of a 
strong faith and hearty trust and humble prayer, and a 
sturdy will and purpose by which they ruled themselves 
and their households, yielding only to God's will, and to 
that with pious and unreserved submission, as Christ 
bade them ! We owe them more honor and thanks 
than we can pay. What is best, wisest, strongest, and 
most Christian in ourselves, in our institutions, manners, 
and habits, has been imbibed from their spirit and trans- 
mitted through their hands. Whatever it be that brings 
them to mind, — their looks, their words, their domestic 
ways, and their walk with God, — whatever renews and 
perpetuates the fading image, be it a page of history, a 
fireside story, a reminiscence from childhood, or a text 
of Scripture, I love it, and will repeat and recall it with 
filial reverence and religious gladness. 

It is not manly or wise to lament over the changes 
that take place in society from generation to generation. 
They must come, and always did come. We will not 
sadly inquire for the former days as better than these. 
They had their good and their evil, mixed in about the 
same proportions, probably, as our own days. We have 
lost some things that were good, but have doubtless gained 
others in their stead. We would avoid foolish and self- 
complacent boasting about universal light and wisdom, on 
the one hand, and repining thoughts and fears about a 
quick and fatal degeneracy, on the other. We could not 
bring back the olden time, if we would. It is presump- 
tuous and unwise to say we would, if we could. But 



216 



CHRISTIAN EDUCATION. 



there are some good lessons that we can learn from a 
former and simples generation, better, I fear, than we 
can learn them of our own ; and one of them I would 
speak of now'. I refer to a great principle in education, 
namely, the idea and the practice of a direct transmission 
of religious faith, pj'inciple, and piety from parent to 
child, from generation to generation, as a Christian duty 
and an office of domestic love and fidelity. 

It was the ancient idea in the Christian Church, that 
religious faith should be thus transmitted. The children 
of Christian parents were to inherit it from their parents, 
and not to be left to acquire it wholly for themselves, 
as they could, when grown up. The practice of infant 
baptism, which is traced back to the early days of the 
Church, was a recognition of this idea. By this rite 
the child was visibly received into the Christian fold, 
under an implied or express pledge on the parents' part 
that it should have a religious education, should be im- 
bued with Christian faith and piety from the first. It 
was not to be left till children were grown up to see 
whether they would choose to be Christians or not. Par- 
ents were to see to it, as far as in them lay, that they 
should grow up Christians, and find themselves such 
when they arrived at mature age. In the original theory 
of the Church, regeneration was for those who had 
grown up out of the Church, bred as Jews or heathens, 
and on their conversion they were baptized in token of 
their being born into the Church. That was the baptism 
of repentance, conversion, regeneration. But the chil- 
dren of Christian parents were regarded as born within 
the Church, belonged from the first to the Christian fold, 
and were recognized as belonging to it by baptism in 
infancy, on the presumption that they would be brought 



CHRISTIAN EDUCATION. 



217 



up in the Christian faith and character, and never need 
regeneration, as Jews or heathens did. 

This was the theory. There would be exceptions in 
practice, Some parents would be unfaithful, and some 
unsuccessful, in their efforts to train up their children 
religiously. But these were regarded as exceptions. 
The theory was as I have stated. Education, not con- 
version or regeneration, was the main thing in a Chris- 
tian society, and infant baptism expresses this important 
idea. The Baptist denomination in our time are prob- 
ably as assiduous in training their children religiously as 
any other, and are in all respects as good Christians as 
any ; but in rejecting the ancient practice of infant bap- 
tism, and baptizing only converted adults, they reject 
the symbol of that great primitive idea of religious edu- 
cation. Their theory does not recognize that idea. It 
is excluded from their ritual. And in this I think their 
theory is wrong. It tends to make conversion every 
thing and education nothing. Every body is to be con- 
verted to Christianity after coming to mature age ; 
whereas, in the ancient Church, the theory and the hope 
was that the descendants of Christians should be so 
trained in Christianity that they would not need conver- 
sion to it. The conversion of the children of Christian 
parents ! I do not believe that the idea ever occurred 
to St. Paul. There is often need enough of it, but it 
arises in great part from the neglect of that other great 
idea which he brings to view in his allusion to that grand- 
mother Lois and that mother E unice, — the idea, name- 
ly, of Christian training, which is symbolized as a prin- 
ciple and a duty in the ordinance of infant baptism, and 
which, it is presumed, every Christian parent solemnly 
recognizes and assumes as a sacred duty, when he pre- 
19 



218 



CHRISTIAN EDUCATION. 



sents his unconscious child at the font. There are 
great ideas lying at the bottom of these simple rites of 
our religion, which we so lightly observe, or as lightly 
neglect. 

But independently of primitive theories, or the church 
ordinances which embody and express them, this matter 
of Christian transmission and religious nurture claims our 
earnest consideration. 

Religious ideas, beliefs, impressions, should be dili- 
gently transmitted. Whatever of Christian faith or feel- 
ing the parent has should be communicated to the child. 
Some persons seem to have scruples on this point. 
They say that all persons ought to form their own re- 
ligious views in the exercise of their own mature reason, 
and that to teach them our views in their childhood is 
to preoccupy their minds, and hinder tire free exercise 
of that reason in after years, and deprive it of the great 
right of unbiased judgment. There are many disputed 
points in religion, they say, and it is fairest and best to 
leave the young mind free to decide for itself on those 
matters in which no one has the right to decide for an- 
other. Let the child grow up without prejudices in 
favor of any particular doctrines, that he may judge for 
himself independently, when he becomes capable of 
judging. This is wretchedly false reasoning, I think. 
You certainly cannot impart to your child any religious 
views different from your own. You cannot in good 
faith, or common honesty, communicate to him as truth 
what you do not regard as truth. You must teach him 
your own views, if any, — yours or none. And not to 
teach him any is to neglect the period when the human 
mind is most susceptible of religious impressions, the 
period which is to after life what the spring-time is to 



CHRISTUM EI-rCATIOV, 



219 



the harvest. There is an opportunity then, for which the 
child is not responsible, but for which you are respon- 
sible ; which he cannot improve, and which, if you neg- 
lect it, is lost for ever, — a loss which no future exercise 
of his reason can supply or compensate. 

There is a tendency in our time to carry the idea of 
liberty to a most extravagant extent. The idea of au- 
thority is getting obsolete in many quarters, — as if au- 
thority were always a usurpation ; whereas in many cases 
it is a duty, and the non-exercise of it is guilt. The 
real rights of human beings are, in truth, so very sacred, 
that we are apt to think we cannot overstate them, can- 
not* too jealously abstain from interference with them, 
cannot give any body his own way too much. This 
morbid feeling about liberty and independence, which 
has various insane manifestations in our day, is coming 
to affect injuriously the relation between parents and 
children. Children must not be interfered with ! must 
not be governed ! Human nature is so divine, that it 
must not be tampered with, but left to the development 
of its own heavenly instincts, which are most heaven- 
ly — in fact, are divine inspirations — in their earliest 
days. Heaven lies around us in our infancy,** says 
a great poet, and many have adopted his poetry as their 
philosophy. Leave young minds free, we are told, — 
free as the mountain air. Shackle them not with your 
old-world notions. Fetter them not with your beliefs and 
habits. Let them alone, and Heaven will guide them, 
and the God within will fashion them by a better model. 
Tou infringe their rights, you violate their sacred free- 
dom, and stifle the celestial melody that runs through the 
strings of a free soul, when you undertake to curb and 
direct them, and overlay the divinity within them by 



220 



CHRISTIAN EDUCATION. 



your laws and regulations, and your world -worn ideas of 
things. Let them alone ; leave them free. Such is the 
purport of some of the philosophy of the day, and the 
idea reaches and influences multitudes who know nothing 
about the philosophy of it, or whence it comes, or whith- 
er it tends. I think we may see some of the fruits of 
this amazing deference to children in the absence of 
humility, of respect for elders, for religion, for any thing 
human or divine, in which many of them are trained and 
are growing up. Young men and maidens, of quite ten- 
der years, have grown competent, and are taught that 
it is a free and very noble thing, to pass their flippant 
judgments on all time-hallowed truth, and sneer in tran- 
quil superiority at all the gray-haired wisdom of the 
world as error and dotage. Freedom and independence 
are, indeed, the choice and immeasurable blessing of our 
time, — liberty, both civil and religious, physical and 
mental, national and individual ; but if the idea is to be 
pushed to the wild extreme which some tendencies indi- 
cate, it will render inevitable, by reaction, a sterner, 
darker despotism over soul and body than the world 
ever saw before. 

But the rights of children ! — They have their rights, 
sacred ones, many which the wisdom, conscience, and 
affection of the Christian parent distinctly point out. 
And their foremost right is a right to that which they 
most need, namely, an efficient and authoritative gover- 
nance and guidance on the part of those whom God and 
nature have set over them for their good. They have a 
right to have a strong and wholesome authority exercised 
over them, mildly, without sternness or severity, yet firm 
and decisive, and to be put under that rational and gen- 
erous bondage of wisdom and love which may save them 



CHRISTIAN EDUCATION. 



221 



from the bad and debasing bondage of their own reckless 
caprices. They have a right to the fruits of your ex- 
perience and wisdom, to have them put into their minds, 
wrought into their convictions and into their ways of 
life ; and this they can best have done, in numerous in- 
stances, not by your reasonings, nor by being left to their 
own instincts, but by your authority, the weight which 
your character has with them, — by your giving them 
positive instruction, and laws not to be questioned. If 
the parent has any definite religious beliefs, impressions, 
and principles, the child has a right to have them instil- 
led from the earliest period into his mind, as much as he 
has a right to claim daily bread at your hands. He has 
a right which he cannot enforce or understand, but which 
the God of nature makes obvious and will vindicate, — 
a right to claim of those in whose hands he is placed in 
his helplessness that they avail themselves of that sus- 
ceptible period to give him the groundwork and materials 
for a religious faith and feeling. Give him, transfer to 
him, your opinions and impressions. Some of them 
may be erroneous : of that point he will have a right to 
judge, and will judge, hereafter. He may modify those 
views very much, when he comes to revise them, in the 
legitimate exercise of his freedom, in after years. Be it 
so. No matter for that. Though he should greatly 
change every opinion and impression, you will still have 
done a work of unspeakable value for him. If you are 
faithful and reasonably fortunate, you will have given 
him, along with your opinions and impressions, a re- 
ligious bias, a spirit of faith, an early, strong, unques- 
tioning sense of the reality of spiritual things and rela- 
tions. The particular opinions and ideas may be modi^ 
fied, and you need not care for that. The bias, feeling, 
19* 



222 



CHRISTIAN EDUCATION. 



spirit of faith, which underlies all religious opinions and 
ideas, and which is the main thing, is likely to remain. 
And inasmuch as that feeling and spirit of faith must be 
for the time embodied in some opinions and ideas, let 
them be your own, and do not scruple to communicate 
your own unreservedly. There is no infringement of 
rights, either immediate or prospective, in doing so. It 
is using your rightful authority, being simply faithful to 
your position, and performing for your children, in the 
only way practicable for you, the very sacred and mo- 
mentous duty of providing for them at the most favora- 
ble time a religious faith, which is likely to cling to 
them and bless them, through every period of life and 
through all changes of opinion. 

The most happy and effectual faith is that which is 
planted in the genial soil of childhood. It is not easily 
killed out. It may lie dormant for long periods, its fruit 
not appear for many days. Pleasure, worldliness, and 
evil associations may long overlay and hide it ; yet that 
early faith and feeling is of the sort to endure. That is 
the faith which comes forth in after times, bursting from 
its smouldering ashes, a vital spark, called out by some 
awakening providence or new turn of thought. The 
faith which cheers the dark places of advanced life, and 
bears up the burdens, illumines the griefs, and fends off 
the temptations of the last years, and spans, to the fad- 
ing eye, the valley of death with the bow of hope and 
promise, — that later faith, more precious to the soul 
than all the universe, — is most often the same that was 
poured into the confiding heart of childhood, and bound 
up there with the fond affections and reverent trustful- 
ness with which God prepares the soul of infancy for 
the parent's planting. Reasonings, and inquiries, and in- 



CHRISTIAN EDUCATION. 



223 



tellectual struggles come afterwards to modify or justify 
opinions ; but not from these start the germ of faith, and 
the sentiment which demands some opinions, and makes 
faith necessary to the soul as a water-brook to the thirsty. 
That germ, planted by the Maker of all in the breast of 
all, is oftenest quickened into life, and saved from ex- 
tinction, by the fostering spirit of some grandmother 
Lois and some mother Eunice, like that unfeigned faith 
which dwelt, not by acquisition nor by conversion, but 
by natural transmission and rightful inheritance, in the 
breast of Paul's noble young friend and fellow-laborer. 

Let Christian parents remember that it is their prov- 
ince, designated by the true voice of nature, and by the 
very theory of the Christian religion and the Christian 
Church, to make their children Christians. Away with 
all weak scruples about interference with the natural 
rights of the soul to think for itself, and to feel as it may 
happen ! If you do not interfere for good, others will 
not be so scrupulous about interfering for evil. Left to 
themselves ! It cannot be. The Devil, personal or 
impersonal, will not let them be left to themselves. In- 
terference ! It is the whole duty of a parent to inter- 
fere. He has nothing else to do with his children, but 
to govern, guide, and form them, — to interfere with 
them. There are years for which he is responsible ; 
and if he do nothing, he is false to a great trust, and 
God will hold him answerable for his child's fate. 

Let Christian parents strive to make their children 
Christians. Present the thought of God to them, as 
their Maker, Father, Judge, — as what he is to your 
own minds ; and Jesus as their Master, Friend, and Sav- 
iour, to believe in, obey, and trust, with such ideas of 
him and his religion as possess your own mind. What- 



224 



CHRISTIAN EDUCATION. 



ever you believe or feel, impress it, repeat it, transmit it, 
— not always, not usually, arguing and proving it, but as 
truth, — the truth as it lies in your own mind. Do it by 
authority of nature and the Scriptures, by virtue of your 
office as parent, the rightful, responsible head, the natu- 
ral ruler of your child, and to him the fountain of wis- 
dom and law. Teach him to honor the Sabbath, to 
revere the Bible and the house of God, and all the or- 
dinances of religion. Associate all Christian things and 
observances closely with his first thoughts and earliest 
affections, and his indestructible associations. Depend 
upon it, there is nothing for which so many blessings 
have been called down on the heads of living, and the 
memory of departed parents, as for the early religious 
beliefs, impressions, and associations received from 
them. 1 do not think children are very deeply grateful 
to parents for pecuniary gifts or bequests. Seldom does 
a child love or honor his parent, or the memory of his 
parent, any more for the property he may have given him 
or left to him. But I believe the whole air is vocal to 
the ear of God with thanksgivings for Christian faith and 
feeling, derived from the voice of love and authority in 
the home of childhood. St. Paul knew what he was 
doing, and what springs in the breast he was touching, 
when he put down for the eye of the young Timothy 
those dear old names of his childhood's home. Pie knew 
that there was a spell, not only to open the fountains of 
filial reverence and affection, but to fire w 7 ith new energy 
and clothe with new sanctity and beauty the faith and 
piety of the Gospel. We may be sure the heart of the 
young man was touched then, and the holy flame burned 
brighter, and a heart's blessing was invoked on his be- 
loved and sainted ones, that returned upon his own head 



CHRISTIAN EDUCATION. 



225 



to guide and keep him. So natural, so dear, so strong, 
so satisfying beyond all other things to the heart, is an 
inherited faith, the spirit of faith that comes with the 
first thoughts, is entwined with the tenderest affections, 
imbedded with the earliest recollections, bound up with 
the fondest memories ! 

My friends, we may have little else to bequeath to our 
children, and it can be of but little consequence wheth- 
er we have or not ; but our soul's great treasure, our 
faith, is their rightful inheritance. This will bless them, 
and, whether in plenty or in want, make them rich and 
full indeed. 



SERMON XIX. 



BY JOHN H. MORISON. 



JESUS OUR REDEEMER. 

AND YE KNOW THAT HE WAS MANIFESTED TO TAKE AWAY OUR 

sins. — 1 John iii. 5. 

Jesus came to give himself as an offering, a sacri- 
fice, by which to take away our sins. He would re- 
deem us from our sins by his teachings, by his example, 
by his direct personal influence on our hearts, by his 
intercession with the Father. 

I. He would redeem us from our sins by his instruc- 
tions, — by the truths which he taught. "To -this end 
was I born, and for this cause came I into the world, 
that I should bear witness unto the truth." " And the 
truth shall set you free." " Sanctify them by thy 
truth." The truth — the doctrines which Jesus has 
revealed — is to be the great instrument in the salvation 
of man. Rules of life, precepts of duty,, the revelation 
of God's love, the means of access to the Divine mercy, 
the intercourse of man with God, and the never-failing 
fountain of light and hope and strength and joy which 
is there opened to the penitent and believing, — these 
are among the doctrines by obedience to which life 
and immortality are brought to light, and man is re- 
deemed from his sins. 



JESUS OUR REDEEMER. 



227 



TI. And in order to touch our hearts, to impress us 
at once with a sense of the exceeding sinfulness of sin, 
and the beauty, the divine loveliness, of a devout and 
holy life, Jesus is himself the example, the embodiment, 
the living personification, the breathing, life-giving ex- 
pression, of all that he has taught. He is himself all 
that he has taught. In him are all the divine affections 
that he would inspire in us. In him shine forth, as 
clothed with his radiance and power, all the duties that 
he would enjoin on us. He does not bind heavy bur- 
dens and lay them on men's shoulders ; but the heaviest 
cross of all he himself bears, that ours may be made 
light. He is not a lawgiver, laying down hard and pre- 
scriptive rules, but a Saviour, who "himself took our 
infirmities, and bare our sicknesses," who knew our 
temptations, who was " a man of sorrows and ac- 
quainted with grief," who took upon himself the burden 
of a perfect life amid a false and wicked generation, 
that a life of devout self-denial, of suffering and priva- 
tion, of love to man and fidelity to God, might for ever 
stand forth, arrayed in all the meek, attractive, and tran- 
scendent glories of his own spirit. As he and his Fa- 
ther, so he and his religion were one. 

Christ, then, has come by his own example to re- 
deem us from our sins. He is not merely a messen- 
ger sent from God to point out the way of escape, but 
he is himself the way. He is not merely a teacher 
sent from heaven to announce the truth which shall set 
us free ; but he is himself the truth, the life, which we 
must receive into our souls, if we would live. 

We are to go to him, to take his yoke upon us, to 
receive his truth, that his life may be in us, and we 
transformed by the renewing of our minds into his image. 



228 



JESUS OUR REDEEMER. 



Thus may we truly reverence and honor him. We may 
not understand the mysteries of his miraculous concep- 
tion, the greatness of that nature which was once veiled 
in flesh, and which now shines out in all the fulness of 
its celestial glory. The more we labor to comprehend 
these things, the more are we bewildered and perplexed. 
We do not understand our own nature; "nor doth it 
yet appear what we shall be," " when this corruptible 
shall have put on incorruption and this mortal shall have 
put on immortality." u But we know, that, when he 
cometh, we shall be like him." And in order to be like 
him in his glorified estate, we must be like what he has 
shown himself to be upon the earth. u Every one," 
saith the Apostle, " that hath this hope in him purifieth 
himself, even as he is pure." This is the only accept- 
able homage that we can pay to our Saviour, — not to 
frame magnificent theories of his nature, and to cry, 
u Lord, Lord, while we do not the things which he has 
commanded," but to Come to him with lowly reverence. 
Feeling our imperfections and sins in painful contrast 
with his perfect purity, let us, with penitent and obedient 
hearts, hear his word, and receive of the life that was 
in him. So shall we be his disciples. So shall we find 
that God is in him reconciling us to himself, bringing 
us to taste freely of the waters of life, — to drink from 
the living fountain of his love, and be refreshed by a 
near and hallowed communion with his spirit. 

It is good for us to dwell thus on the example of our 
Master ; to call to remembrance his words and his acts ; 
to live, as it were, with him, till we are penetrated and 
made alive by the spirit that was in him. Let us go 
with him from his humble home in Galilee, where he 
had been subject to his parents, through the desert, 



JESUS OUR REDEEMER. 



229 



amid the multitudes, in his works of divine beneficence 
and in his solitary devotions ; on the mountain-top with 
his chosen disciples, where " he was transfigured before 
them, and his face did shine as the sun, and his raiment 
was white as the light," in the garden of Gethsemane, 
in the judgment-hall, or on Mount Calvary ; — let us dwell 
with him, till he becomes to us an object of constant 
reverence and affection, — till the meaning of his life, 
and the deeper significance of his death, have gone down 
into our hearts and kindled there a new and more sacred 
flame. In our prosperity let us remember him with 
whom the possession of powers beyond the magnificent 
dreams of human ambition could not for a moment dis- 
turb the meekness and humility of his soul. If, when 
tried by the apprehension of losing what is dearest to 
us or of being overwhelmed by misfortunes beyond our 
strength, we pray in anguish that the cup may pass 
from us, let us remember the deeper sorrows, the utter 
desolation, that pressed on him, and his submissiveness of 
soul ; and thus add to our request, ''Nevertheless, not 
my will, but thine, be done." Are we wounded in spir- 
it, do we fail of gaining from man the sympathy which we 
crave, let us remember his tenderness, his unspeakable 
love, who endured the harsh repulses of those for whom 
his life was spent, and bore all, even to the cross, that 
we might live ; and though all sources of human sym- 
pathy were closed against us, we shall in him, and the 
fountain of infinite grace and mercy which he has opened 
to us by his blood, find sympathy enough to meet all 
our wants, to soothe and tranquillize our hearts, and 
breathe into them the peace which the world cannot 
give. 

The power of Christ, as a living example, a quicken- 
20 



230 



JESUS OUR REDEEMER. 



ing spirit within us, we do not appreciate as we ought. 
In every man, who makes any strong impression on 
others, there is, beyond all that he says or does, an 
invisible, undefined, electric influence, which by a secret 
sympathy imparts itself to others, or awakens in them 
corresponding feelings and desires. It has been through 
this influence mainly in connection with great truths, that 
every important impulse has been given to the moral 
and religious progress of mankind. Now, as Jesus 
possesses in himself all the elements of spiritual great- 
ness, — whatever may give tenderness to the affec- 
tions, strength to our moral feelings, or beauty and 
power to our religious convictions, — as these exist 
without measure in him, so through him may they be 
quickened and called forth in us. Cut off from him, we 
are separated from that which is our life. Something 
we may receive from those around us who live in him, 
and perhaps, as society now is, a very considerable por- 
tion of our spiritual life is thus gained from those who 
only reflect on us the kindling rays which they have 
received from the Sun of Righteousness. But still he 
is the Sun. In him dwells the fulness of the Divine 
life, and of his fulness we have all received. " The 
bread of God is he which cometh down from heaven 
and giveth life unto the world. I am that bread of life." 

These expressions are strictly and philosophically 
true. For there is no faculty within us fairly born, 
unless through some influence from without. The eye 
would remain as though it were not, but for the inter- 
vention of light. The intellect and the affections would 
remain undeveloped and unknown to ourselves, unless 
there should be something apart from themselves to act 
upon them. And so of our higher nature, unless there 



JESUS OUR REDEEMER, 



231 



be something out of itself to act upon it, it remains, to 
all practical purposes, the same as if unborn. When 
the whole world, therefore, was sunk in spiritual dark- 
ness, there was nothing to call out man's spiritual nature. 
The works of creation might do something to awaken 
vaguely the sentiment of reverence. But the best 
affections of his nature, whether connecting him with 
man or God, as in a world of spiritual death they 
could be acted upon by no corresponding qualities in 
others, so they must have remained, to all practical 
purposes, nearly the same as if unborn. Men cannot 
raise themselves to any considerable height above the 
loftiest moral standard that comes from without. But 
when a being, in whom the highest elements of charac- 
ter exist in full activity and power, comes into com- 
munion with them, and they with implicit faith give 
themselves up to his influence, it is as if a new creation 
had begun within them, calling as from the tomb powers 
which had lain buried there from their birth. Through 
the quickening influence of his life they are made alive, 
instinct with hopes, affections, and a divine joy, which 
are a wonder to themselves. It was in this sense, 
though doubtless with a meaning profound beyond all 
that our thoughts can reach, that Jesus uttered the 
words, "I am the resurrection and the life; he that 
believeth in me, though he were dead yet shall he live, 
and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never 
die." 

It is thus that he would redeem us from sin and 
death, exalting us even now through a glorious resurrec- 
tion of all that is purest and best within us. The ab- 
stract questions as to his nature, which have so long 
agitated and divided the church, are of no consequence 



232 



JESUS OUR REDEEMER. 



hero. It matters not whether we regard him as a man 
divinely exalted and glorified through the indwelling 
presence of the Almighty, or as God mysteriously 
taking upon himself our humanity, and manifesting 
himself through the form, the senses, the affections, 
infirmities, and passions of a man. In either case it is 
the life of God in man, and through him, in all its 
quickening influences, acting upon the hearts and souls 
of men. The human is so blended with the divine, 
that, whichever we regard as the basis of his personal 
existence, his ministry is the ministry of God, his 
thoughts are the inspirations of God, his words are 
the words of God, and the gracious, life-giving in- 
fluences that come from him are as if breathed forth 
from the living spirit of the Almighty. To believe, 
therefore, in Christ, is to believe in God. To com- 
mune w T ith Christ is to commune with God ; and as 
in him, while he was in the body, dwelt all the fulness 
of the Godhead, so by communion with him in faith may 
our souls be quickened, till we also, in the language of 
the Apostle, u are filled with all the fulness of God." 

III. These — his doctrines and his example — are 
doubtless the most effective means by which Jesus 
would take away the sins of the world. But there is 
another mode of action, perhaps less clearly revealed 
and farther removed from our usual habits of thought, 
which must add greatly to their efficiency, and on which 
I love to dwell as drawing us into a near personal re- 
lation with Christ. " Wherever two or three are 
gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst 
of them." " Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the 
end of the world." "If a man love me, he will keep 
my words ; and my Father will love him, and we will 



JESUS OUR REDEEMER. 



233 



come unto him and make our abode with him." The 
•dying Stephen saw the glory of God, and Jesus stand- 
ing on the right hand of God. So Paul not only 
heard his voice when on his way to Damascus, but 
more than once afterwards had direct revelations from 
"the Lord." Through the Epistles Jesus is every- 
where spoken of and referred to as if this near personal 
relation were still existing between himself and his fol- 
lowers. Miraculous communications have ceased ; but, 
in accordance with these and other passages of the 
Scriptures, I believe, and it is a source of great corn- 
fort to believe, that there is, through all ages, a peculiar 
personal relation between Jesus and his followers upon 
the earth, — that, in their struggles, their trials, and 
their victories, he is with them, and does exercise a 
peculiar influence over them for their good, — that he 
is here, assisting each one of us, who will receive his 
aid, to accomplish the great work of redemption and 
salvation. 

Is it asked how this can be ? Does it seem to us 
a thing incredible that he can thus be present with so 
many souls at once ? The sun, at one and the same 
moment, sheds its warmth and light on millions of 
human beings. A public speaker may, at one and the 
same moment, extend the influence of his mind to thou- 
sands. God, the omnipresent, dwells, at one and the 
same moment, in all places of his dominion, and no in- 
ward motion in the smallest of his creatures escapes his 
notice. Now, as he reaches through infinity, may he 
not endow his Son with some .portion of his omnipres- 
ence, and enable him, by a divinely appointed system of 
means, at once to see, to hold intercourse with, and to 
act on millions of sentient beings, and to have with each 
20* 



234 



JESUS OUR REDEEMER. 



one of them an intimate personal relation ? There is no 
philosophy which can thus limit the powers of the Al- 
mighty. And it is in harmony with all that w T e know 
of his government here, where so much is done through 
ministering agents, to suppose that he, whom he hath 
exalted to be a Prince and a Saviour, is still a media- 
tor between God and men, watching over and assist- 
ing those who are yet engaged in the perilous discipline 
of this mortal life, sympathizing with us in our sorrows, 
knowing, from his own experience, how sorely we are 
tried, breathing in upon our bleeding hearts his own 
compassionate tenderness, working with us till he has 
redeemed us from our sins, — thus leading us to his 
Father, who has been ever with us, that we may be ad- 
mitted into full communion with his own blessed spirit. 

But do we, in our daily thoughts and experience, feel, 
as something distinct and real, the presence of Christ ? 
In our despondency, do we feel that he, the compassion- 
ate Saviour, who has tasted the weariness of life and the 
bitterness of death, is near, w T ith all his divine benig- 
nity and love ? While cherishing unkind feeling towards 
those who have done us wrong, do we realize the calm 
but earnest remonstrance of him who gladly gave his 
life for those who had done him wrong ? As we shrink 
from the performance of some severe but acknowledged 
duty, do we call to mind, not as something afar off, but 
as very near, that voice which, with sorrowful affection, 
would now say, u One thing thou lackest yet ; go and 
sell all ; — give up the last lingering attachment to what 
is wrong, and come and follow me " ? Are there not 
times when the thought of God, in his infinite majesty, 
seems too high, and we cannot attain to it, — when we 
shrink from it as too vast for our human conceptions, — 



JESUS OUR REDEEMER. 



235 



when we have not strength to approach the Almighty 
and Everlasting Creator of unnumbered worlds ? Let 
us then turn to him, the appointed mediator, in whom 
the glories of his Father shine with a radiance not too 
dazzling for our mortal thought, and in whom is the 
most perfect expression we can have of God's infinite 
condescension and love. 

IV. In the fourth place, Christ would take away our 
sins as our intercessor with God. Do we believe in 
prayer ? Do we pray for those who are dear to us ? 
Do we know that the fervent, effectual [earnest] prayer 
of the righteous man availeth much ? Do we love to be 
remembered in the prayers of those we love, and whose 
lives of superior holiness command our respect ? Let 
us remember that Jesus, God's own beloved Son, " is 
able to save them to the uttermost that come unto God 
by him, seeing he ever liveth to make intercession for 
them." To my mind, there is something inexpressibly 
touching in this our Saviour's relation to us. He ever 
liveth to make intercession for us ; calling on God, by 
his own sinless life, by all that he has done and all that 
he has suffered in our behalf, by his agony in the gar- 
den and his anguish upon the cross, — entreating God 
to take pity on those for whom he has died, — to take 
pity on us and save us from our sins. 

I know that this is a doctrine which may be carried 
to excess ; but not with us. We are too incredulous. 
We do not believe enough in prayer. We do not enter 
enough into its spirit to understand its power. We do 
not know how intensely it may bind man to God, and 
God to his creatures. We do not see how it may be 
one of the established means, without which the rain 
and dews of the Divine mercy shall fall upon the soul 



236 



JESUS OUR. REDEEMER. 



in vain. Especially are we incredulous in respect to 
any influence of prayer except on him who prays. But 
can we not take some things on trust, and believe them 
simply because God has declared them ? He cer- 
tainly has taught us to pray, by the sense of want 
and dependence which he has implanted in our hearts, 
by groanings which cannot be uttered, by the yearn- 
ings and longings of our better nature ; and if there 
is any thing taught in the Scriptures, it is the duty and 
efficacy of prayer. When Peter was imprisoned, 
c< prayer was made, without ceasing, of the church for 
him." 44 God is my witness," says St. Paul to the 
Romans, u whom I serve with my spirit in the Gospel 
of his Son, that without ceasing I make mention of you 
always in my prayers." To the Ephesians he says, 
" Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the 
spirit, which is the word of God, praying always with all 
prayer and supplication in the spirit, and watching there- 
unto with all perseverance and supplication for all saints, 
and for me, that utterance may be given unto me." There 
is something exceedingly affecting in this habit, among the 
primitive Christians, of constantly interceding and pray- 
ing one for another. And it w 7 as a practice which they 
borrowed from their Master. The prayers which are 
recorded as his were offered up almost entirely in behalf 
of others. " I pray for them. I pray not that thou 
shouldst take them out of the world, but that thou 
shouldst save them from the evil. Neither pray I for 
these alone, but for them also which shall believe on me 
through their word, that they all may be one." And 
on the cross, — ct Father, forgive them, for they know 
not what they do." 

We will not, then, stop here to inquire how prayer 



JESUS OUR REDEEMER. 



237 



may influence the Almighty to grant our request. We 
see but a little way into his vast designs. Let us in some 
things learn to trust his word, even where we cannot 
see, assured that, though u we know not now, we shall 
know hereafter." Let us rejoice to think of Jesus as 
taking away our sins, not only through his words and 
example and by his own personal relation to us, but by 
his intercessions with God. As the father for his erring 
child prays and wrestles with the Almighty, as the saints 
pray to God that his kingdom may come and his will be 
done in earth as it is in heaven, as the whole army of 
the faithful on earth and in heaven are bound together, 
not more by their common affections than their common 
prayers, so Christ ever liveth to make intercession for 
us. And must it be in vain ? 

Let us join our prayers to his. By all that he has 
taught, by all that he has done and suffered in our be- 
half, by his peculiar interest in us, and his unceasing 
intercessions with the Father, I " pray you in Christ's 
stead, be ye reconciled to God." Obey the words of 
Jesus. Receive into your hearts the life that was in 
him. Cherish the thought of his presence, Remem- 
ber that in him you have an unfailing advocate with God, 
through whom you may have access to the throne of 
grace, and partake freely of the waters of life. 



SERMON XX. 



BY ALEXANDER YOUNG. 



LOVE TO CHRIST. 

JESUS CHRIST; WHOM HAVING NOT SEEN, YE LOVE. 1 Peler i. 8. 

A strong and tender attachment to our Lord and 
Saviour Jesus Christ is a sentiment the most natural, 
reasonable, and becoming, in all who are capable of 
understanding his exalted character and of appreciating 
their obligations to him. This is no artificial or arbi- 
trary duty, but has its foundations in our nature, and is 
in harmony with the best feelings and principles of the 
heart. 

It is deeply to be regretted, that the gross and famil- 
iar way in which enthusiasm sometimes proclaims the 
fervor of its religious affections should have rendered 
this topic of love to Christ in any degree distasteful — 
as I fear it has — to the sober, judicious, thoughtful 
portion of the Christian community. Regarding piety 
as a sacred sentiment of the individual soul, and calm 
in proportion to its depth, they find it difficult to sym- 
pathize with that impassioned and fervid expression of 
feeling which seems to be considered by some the only 
proper evidence of sincere love to Christ. They have 



LOVE TO CHRIST. 



239 



too much respect for his name to mention it lightly ; too 
profound a veneration for his character to apply to him 
the extravagant epithets of human passion. The love 
which they feel and cherish is a tender, tranquil, 
abiding interest, dwelling in the depths of the soul, 
occasionally rising to an emotion, but never venting 
itself in terms of rapture and ecstasy. Of course, they 
look with disapprobation, and perhaps even with dis- 
gust, on the tumultuous and feverish excitement, which 
seems to partake so largely of human passion, often ex- 
hibited by the professed followers of him who " did 
not strive, nor cry, nor let his voice be heard in the 
streets." They dislike every thing like rant or fren- 
zy in a matter so solemn and serious. They are fear- 
ful lest the name of their Lord should be profaned by 
an irreverent utterance, or his character degraded by an 
unbecoming familiarity. 

In what I may say upon this topic, I would not ren- 
der myself obnoxious to the charge of indulging a vain 
fancy or making exaggerated statements. I would speak 
with a reserve which might seem like coldness, rather 
than with an ardor that should savor of fanaticism. I 
shall maintain that love to Christ is a natural, reason- 
able, and becoming sentiment ; and it is my earnest 
wish to convince all who hear me of the duty of giving 
to his character that attention which is necessary to a 
just appreciation and love of it. In pursuing the sub- 
ject, I shall inquire, first, why we ought to love Christ ; 
and, secondly, how we should manifest our love. 

I. I remark, in the first place, that love is a senti- 
ment naturally excited in an unperverted heart by the 
contemplation of goodness, or moral excellence, es- 
pecially if it be exercised in our behalf and for our 



240 



LOVE TO CHRIST. 



benefit. Why is it that we love our parents and bene- 
factors ? Is it not on account of their goodness to us, 
their benevolent regard, their kind treatment, their 
affectionate care ? What is it that awakens our esteem 
and reverence towards many of those with whom we 
daily meet in the intercourse of life, or with whom we 
are made acquainted by report or history ? Is it not 
the goodness and rectitude we recognize in them, — 
their moral graces, their generous dispositions, their kind 
feelings, their deeds of benevolence and charity ? This, 
to be sure, is not the only sentiment we cherish and 
express towards them. Love does not absorb or ex- 
clude all other feelings. We may admire intellectual 
strength and efficiency ; we may be astonished at the 
variety and extent of one's mental acquisitions ; we 
may acknowledge and respect his judgment, skill in 
affairs, bravery in peril, resolution in enterprise. But 
our love we always reserve for higher and better quali- 
ties, for moral excellence, for the heart and its attri- 
butes and manifestations. When we turn over the 
pages of history, and survey the deeds of kings and 
heroes, we may be struck with wonder at the recital 
of their martial achievements ; we may do homage to 
the untiring and invincible spirit that goaded them on 
from conquest to conquest, and enabled them to bear 
fatigue and endure hardships and surmount difficulties 
almost too great for human power. But we do not 
accord to them the tribute of our affection, the warm 
expression of our love. Never. This sentiment, which 
is deaf to the appeals of greatness and glory, answers 
readily to the still, small voice of virtue and goodness. 
The tribute which we deny to the conqueror, returning 
from a victory, we bestow involuntarily on the gentle 



LOVE TO CHRIST. 



241 



and self-sacrificing spirit of the philanthropist. The 
exploits of a Napoleon may draw forth our admiration 
for his intellectual energy ; but the moral heroism and 
disinterested benevolence of a Howard elicit our sym- 
pathy and love. 

So it is, likewise, when we contemplate the charac- 
ter and attributes of God. His eternity, his infinite 
power, his boundless wisdom, his universal presence, — 
these, his natural attributes, fill us with reverence and 
awe. We are almost overwhelmed by the contempla- 
tion of ideas so vast, and so much above our compre- 
hension ; and we bow down before the Being whose 
glory they in part express, with deep humility, with an 
unspoken and unspeakable adoration. But it is the moral 
attributes of our great Creator — his truth, his justice, 
his holiness, his benevolence, his inexhaustible mercy — 
w T hich kindle our veneration and attract our confidence 
and love. Divest him of these, represent him as false, 
unrighteous, malevolent, and cruel, and you cannot 
make us love him, though you still clothe him with 
omniscience, and place in his hand the sceptre of the- 
universe, and make the whole creation but an instru- 
ment of his irresistible will. We involuntarily shrink 
from such a character, as the embodiment and per- 
sonification of evil. The human soul, in its lowest 
and worst condition, loathes it, and turns from it with 
an uncontrollable recoil. We cannot, whilst any ves- 
tige of God's image remains in us, we cannot venerate 
power unless it be combined with equity, and purity, 
and benevolence. The divine voice within us forbids 
us to love any being, even the mightiest, who is not 
arrayed in these, the brightest ornaments of man and 
the most glorious excellences in nature. 
21 



242 



LOVE TO CHRIST. 



It appears, then, that the natural objects of veneration 
and love are the moral qualities of intelligent beings, 
— their pure hearts, their generous affections, their 
purposes and acts of goodness. By this rule let us 
now attempt to measure and describe the love which 
we should give to Christ. 

1. In the first place, look at his character. Examine 
it closely ; scrutinize it severely. I will not attempt 
to delineate it ; for it is a character which must be 
familiar to you all. If, however, there be an individual 
who hears me unacquainted with the character of the 
Son of God, I will not reproach him for his neglect ; I 
would not shame him by the mention of his ignorance. 
But I would remind him that he has hitherto debarred 
himself of one of the highest sources of satisfaction and 
means of improvement. He has neglected to avail him- 
self of one of the strongest incentives and aids to virtue. 
For it must be admitted, that no one can contemplate 
the example of moral purity and worth which Jesus has 
left us, no one can explore the heights and depths of his 
spiritual being, and not feel a burning aspiration to at- 
tain what he beholds ; not feel a change in his desires, 
his fears, his hopes, and his aims ; not feel that all his 
passions must be controlled and subjected to the nobler 
part of his nature ; not feel his heart glow with the 
love of goodness and an irrepressible longing for its 
own renovation and perfection. This I hold to be a 
necessary consequence, not occasional and accidental, 
but universal and inevitable. 

I appeal, for the truth of what I say, to those among 
you who best know the character of the Saviour, — who 
have studied it most attentively ; and I ask you wheth- 
er the contemplation of it has not, more than all other 



LOVE TO CHRIST. 



243 



influences, filled your heart with heavenly aspirations 
and religious purposes. Whilst you follow him in his 
pilgrimage through a wicked world, and consider all 
the circumstances of his hard lot in life, — the un- 
propitious influences to which he was exposed, — the 
corrupt and corrupting society by which he was sur- 
rounded, — and when you reflect that amidst all this 
moral defilement and contagion he remained holy, harm- 
less, undefiled, and separate • from sinners, — can you 
help cherishing towards him the tenderest respect and 
the truest love ? For, be it remembered, the path of 
Jesus was no smooth and peaceful road from Nazareth 
to Calvary ; his virtue was not of that doubtful and 
negative kind that had never passed the ordeal of diffi- 
culty and temptation. The Evangelists furnish us with 
one striking instance of the trial to which his fidelity 
was exposed in the exercise of his miraculous gifts ; 
and the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews informs 
us, that u we have not a high-priest that cannot be 
touched with the feeling of our infirmities ; but was in 
all points tempted like as we are, and yet without sin*" 
Indeed, my hearers, our respect and attachment to 
Jesus, viewed merely as a son of man, and the high- 
est of the sons of men, are immeasurably increased 
when we reflect that he exhibited this pattern of perfect 
rectitude and goodness in one of the most corrupt and 
depraved ages of the world ; that he rose up for the 
deliverance of mankind in the midst of a wicked and 
adulterous generation. Yet, notwithstanding this fact, 
it can be truly said of the virtue of Jesus that it was 
solitary, unapproached, and unimpeached. 

(1.) It was solitary and singular. The world, in its 
highest and best ages, had seen no such being, possess- 



244 



LOVE TO CHRIST. 



ing such an assemblage of opposite qualities blended in 
such beautiful harmony. The imagination of man, in 
its loftiest nights, in regions favored by the lights of in- 
tellect and genius, had never fancied even the rude 
sketch, the rough outline, of that pure and perfect char- 
acter which in Jesus was completely delineated and de- 
veloped. There was no single model then in existence, 
or traced upon the page of history, on which he might 
have formed himself. You will search in vain, too, 
among the men of that or of preceding times, for individ- 
uals from whose biographies he might have selected and 
gathered the single traits and qualities which go to make 
up his complex but consistent character. The peculiar 
characteristics of his mind and heart, I maintain, were 
not to be found elsewhere. Tn the degree and propor- 
tions in which they appeared in him, they were never 
before seen. And for this plain reason, among others, 
that they were not popular qualities. The humility, the 
meekness, the forbearance, the self-sacrifice, and the for- 
giving spirit of Jesus were not virtues which would com- 
mand honor and glory, or advance a man in the world. 
Least of all were they respected or likely to show them- 
selves in such an age and in such a nation as were those 
in which Christ lived, — an age of notorious profligacy, 
a nation dead in trespasses and sins. 

(2.) But this goodness was not only singular and soli- 
tary at that time ; it has also remained unapproached in 
all succeeding times. The world, from the time of our 
Saviour to the present day, has been gradually improv- 
ing. Great discoveries have been made in every de- 
partment of science. The useful and the elegant arts 
have made rapid advances. The condition of mankind 
has been greatly meliorated. The human mind has 



LOVE TO CHRIST. 



245 



gone forward ; human character has improved. And 
yet, notwithstanding this great and manifest progress of 
our race in intellectual and moral excellence, the char- 
acter of Christ is still as much a phenomenon, and his 
goodness continues as independent and unapproachable, 
as ever. Indeed, the more capable mankind has become 
of discerning the excellence of Jesus, the more it has 
been honored and admired, and the higher and more 
wonderful it has appeared. Nor is there any prospect 
that it will ever be transcended, or even reached, by 
mortal man. As we advance towards it, it constantly 
recedes, and rises before us, beckoning us upwards, and 
leading us on nearer and nearer towards the Divine per- 
fections. 

(3.) Moreover, the goodness of Jesus has never been 
impeached. This, perhaps, is not its least extraordi- 
nary characteristic. The tongue of contemporaneous 
enmity and jealousy could not find, — I will not say a 
plausible, — it could not find any accusation wherewith 
to reproach his virtue. It charged him, indeed, with 
breaking the Sabbath, with violating the ceremonial law, 
with neglecting the Pharisaic traditions, with employing 
diabolical agency, with forbidding to pay tribute to 
Caesar. But it never uttered a syllable against the purity 
of his intentions and motives, and never assailed the in- 
tegrity of his character and life. The testimony of the 
Roman governor before whom he was arraigned is dis- 
tinct and explicit : — "I can find no fault in him." x\nd 
this direct evidence of his contemporaries and enemies 
has never been questioned by those who, in after times, 
have doubted his credentials and disputed his Divine 
mission. On the contrary, it has not only been admit- 
ted, but it has been augmented and confirmed. The 
21 * 



246 



LOVE TO CHRIST. 



strongest and most eloquent tributes to the purity and 
excellence of his character have proceeded from the 
pens of infidels. I need only refer, as an instance, to 
the glowing testimony of Rousseau. I have never heard 
of a charge or surmise that implicated his rectitude or 
moral worth. * If such have ever been alleged, they have 
never come to my knowledge or observation. To me 
the character of Christ presents itself unimpeached. 
And I find another reason for revering and loving him 
in the fact that he manifested a virtue so invulnerable 
and unassailable, that it has ever continued, not only 
above reproach, but beyond the reach of suspicion. 

2. This goodness of Jesus, this pure and benevolent 
and holy spirit which we admire in him, it is to be 
added, as a further ground and reason for our love to 
him, was manifested in our behalf and exerted for our 
benefit/ u We love him because he first loved us." 
The love which glowed in his bosom, and pervaded and 
animated all his actions, was of the most generous and dis- 
interested nature. He felt a deep concern for our spirit- 
ual and eternal welfare. In obedience to his Father, he 
entered on his arduous and perilous mission. He came 
to satisfy the w T ants, the immortal cravings, of the human 
soul, to enlighten our ignorance, to dispel our doubts, to 
quiet our fears, to confirm our hopes, to teach us our 
duty, to reveal to us a Father in heaven, and to bring 
life and immortality to light. Do we love our earthly 
benefactors, because they bestow upon us favors and 
blessings of temporary value, and which afford only a 
short-lived gratification ? And shall we not love with 
heartier devotion that spiritual benefactor who has con- 
ferred on us heavenly gifts, suited to the imperishable 
soul, and which can never experience diminution or de- 



LOVE TO CHRIST. 



247 



cay ? The love of Jesus to man, every one sees, was 
purely disinterested ; there was no alloy of selfishness in 
it ; and on this account demands, whilst it is suited to 
produce, a sincere and cordial love in return. For our 
benefit he gave up ease, comfort, security, a happy 
home, the good opinion of friends, and submitted to a 
life of hardship, anxiety, pain, and peril, and finally 
to an agonizing death. This was all voluntary. His 
labors, his sufferings, his crucifixion, were all voluntary. 
He tells us, in so many words, that he lays down his 
life of himself, and that he might summon legions of 
angels to his rescue. But his death he knew to be 
necessary to the completion of his great work, an es- 
sential link in the chain of redemption ; and he there- 
fore cheerfully submitted to it, despising the shame. 
Now what stronger proof can we have of disinterested 
affection than that which he thus manifested ? u Great- 
er love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his 
life for his friends." And what more is necessary to 
kindle the feelings of veneration and love to him in our 
hearts, than to turn our eyes to his cross, and behold him 
there breathing out his pure and innocent spirit in agony 
and shame, that we might live in peace and righteous- 
ness, and die in the blessed hope of a resurrection from 
the dead ? Is it not then natural, reasonable, and becom- 
ing, that we love the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity ? 

II. And now, brethren, how shall we show this love, 
if we feel it ? Surely not by loud and frequent protes- 
tations, nor by lavishing on him the familiar and endear- 
ing epithets of human passion. This might serve to 
degrade rather than to elevate him in our regard. The 
expression of the sentiment should correspond to its 
character. It should be natural, reasonable, and be- 
coming. 



24S 



LOTE TO CHRIST. 



1. First, we should speak of him, whenever we have 
occasion to say any thing about him, with the reverence 
due to his character and office ; never lightly, or so as 
to convey an impression that we are willing he should 
be regarded as holding a relation inferior to that which 
he assumed ; never in terms adverse to the representa- 
tions given of him by his Apostles ; never in language 
implying doubt or denial of the supernatural gifts he 
claimed and exercised, and which, if he did not possess, 
either he was an impostor, or his Apostles were fabulists 
or deceivers. Never thus, it seems to me, can true 
love to Christ express itself. We do not allow another 
to disparage the actions or detract from the reputation 
of a friend to whom we are really and strongly attached, 
without interposing a rebuke or remonstrance. Does 
not sincere love require us to be equally jealous of the 
honor and name of our heavenly friend ? 

2. Again. We should evince our love to Jesus by 
keeping his memory fresh and fragrant in the sacred 
chambers of the soul, — by diligently studying his char- 
acter in its elements and principles, and by meditating 
on the priceless benefits he has conferred on us by his 
ministry of love, by his gospel of salvation. 

3. But the surest and the least equivocal test of our 
love to Christ — a test which he himself established — is 
an unreserved and cheerful obedience to all his precepts, 
as well those which relate to the heart as those which 
refer to the outward life. " Ye are my friends," says 
he. " if ye do whatsoever I command you. He that 
hath my commandments and keepeth them, he it is that 
loveth me." Without this aspiration and endeavour 
after an entire conformity to the spirit and precepts of 
his religion, all professions of love must be accounted 



LOVE TO CHRIST. 



249 



vain and useless. " Why call ye me Lord, Lord, and 
do not the things which I say ? " And yet must it not 
be confessed that we are all lamentably deficient in this 
respect ? In our private transactions and in our public 
duties, — for all of us, however obscure and humble our 
position in society, have in this country public duties and 
responsibilities, — how few are actuated and controlled 
by a regard to the great, fixed, fundamental principles 
of the Gospel ! How few rise above considerations of 
mere worldly prudence and temporary expediency ! 
Brethren, let us strive to attain a better manifestation 
than this of that love to Christ which all of us, no doubt, 
seem to ourselves already to possess. Let us be ready 
to follow him, — leaving all else, to follow him, — by 
making the most rigorous application to our lives of the 
laws he has established for the moral government of the 
world. 

4. Finally. If we feel the love of Christ within us, 
and earnestly desire some mode of giving it expression, 
and, at the same time, of increasing its power, here is 
that mode, ordained by the Saviour himself, simple, 
pure, solemn, — fit emblem of his own character, — the 
Holy Communion. Here the swelling heart of love and 
gratitude may come and pour itself out in the wine-cup, 
not of wrath, but of Divine and eternal mercy. Here, 
too, the soul, fasting for its sins, because it loves the 
Lord, may come and receive that bread which tells of 
life for ever renewed, of hunger for ever satisfied, in the 
kingdom of our Father. 

If these are your feelings, my friends, the feelings of 
one or of many, C£ come, for all things are now ready. 
The spirit and the bride say, Come ; and let him that is 
athirst come ; and whosoever will, let him come and 



250 LOVE TO CHRIST. 

take of the waters of life freely." Ye who are in the 
morning of life, come, and testify your consecration to 
that goodness which was manifested in Jesus Christ, and 
solemnize a union with him which shall be eternal. Ye 
who occupy the middle space between the cradle and 
the grave, come, and declare your attachment to those 
principles of duty which are the only safeguard of indi- 
vidual virtue and honor, and the only true basis of social 
prosperity and peace. And ye whose sun is descend- 
ing, whose steps are turned from the summit of life 
towards the vale of years, come, and renew at the altar 
which Christ has blessed the hopes which brighten upon 
you from the other side of the grave ; and express, and 
by expressing confirm, your determination to die in the 
faith of the Gospel and in the fellowship of the Church. 
And grace be with all them that love our Lord Jesus 
Christ in sincerity. 



SERMON XXI. 



BY EDWARD B. HALL. 



CHRIST'S LOYE FOR MAN. 

FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST CONSTRAIN ETH US ; BECAUSE WE THUS 
JUDGE, THAT IF ONE DIED FOR ALL, THEN WERE ALL DEAD. — 

2 Cor. v. 14. 

The love of Christ for man is a common subject 
and a great one. Possibly its commonness conceals 
its greatness. Its familiarity is no security for our 
right use of it. It is spoken of too loosely, or insisted 
upon too dogmatically, for calm consideration and fair 
estimate. Indeed, its very nature, as usually regarded, 
may remove it from us. Such a being as Christ, 
coming into the world in such a way, living and dying 
for such a purpose, erecting an invisible kingdom, acting 
through a great variety of influences known and un- 
known, and our knowledge of it reaching us by such an 
imperfect medium as human testimony and mutable rec- 
ord, may serve to give to the theme, with all its sim- 
plicity, a kind of indistinctness, unfavorable to a clear and 
healthy impression. The difficulty is increased by most 
of the systems of theology. When viewed as wholly 



252 



Christ's love for man. 



or chiefly doctrinal, Christ's love for man has few of 
the properties of common love, and can hardly exert 
its best influences. 

That which we need, that which all men require in 
order to feel a personal interest in Christ and his love, 
is to perceive that this love was not unnatural or pre- 
ternatural, not an involuntary or mysterious sentiment, 
not merely a predetermined necessary part of the world's 
government ; but a natural, free, intelligible, simple 
affection, differing from other affection in its purity, 
intensity, elevation, and comprehensiveness. Yet more, 
we need to feel that this love, while it had such vast 
comprehensiveness, had likewise a tenderness and in- 
dividuality of regard, extending in its power and pur- 
pose to each of us, and now operating upon all. If men 
can be induced to consider this and be brought to feel 
it, they will find that the love of Christ " constraineth " 
them ; that, like the love of an earthly friend or known 
benefactor, — a parent, protector, patriot, philanthropist, 
— and far more than any, it seizes the affections , by a 
resistless power, and claims the heart. Yet let not this 
be expected to come without full consideration and 
rational conviction. 

First, let the love of Christ for man be viewed as ac- 
tual, a reality. I know not how far it is true, but I 
have an apprehension that there exists in many minds 
everywhere, more or less consciously, a skepticism as 
to the reality of Christ's life and love. T speak not 
of infidelity, for skepticism is not infidelity. It is nega- 
tive, rather than positive. It is not decision, but the 
want of decision. It is an uncertainty of mind, a hesi- 
tation and inaction of heart, amounting often to com- 
plete apathy. And this, in the relation now considered, 



Christ's love for man. 



253 



may grow into an unbelieving state as to the essential 
matter of fact. We hear much of an historical Christ. 
And we are sometimes told, in the temper of complaint, 
that Christ has been usually regarded as only historical. 
There is truth in this, but it is not the whole truth. 
That Christ has been made too much a traditional and 
historical being, we all feel. But there is a right, as 
well as a wrong, sense in which he may be called his- 
torical. His life is history. His whole doctrine is a 
part of the world's truth and reality. His character 
has existed, has acted, does act continually, and this not 
simply as goodness, or holiness, or beauty, but as fact, 
individual and actual history. If, therefore, in opposition 
to the historical, we are taught to receive only a senti- 
mental Christ, to regard the Saviour merely as the true 
or beautiful in creation, we entirely dissent. We decide 
not for other minds, nor would we make the name or 
character of Christian to depend upon our own views. 
But for ourselves, we desire all that we can have of 
distinctness, reality, and personality in the thought of 
Christ. We need it, we crave it. We want a person- 
al Saviour, not an essence or an idea. We want to see 
and know that Jesus Christ, a teacher from God, did 
live and preach and die, as really as Fenelon or Wes- 
ley ; that he trod this earth ; that he walked through vil- 
lages and cities of that land, which, of all earthly spots, 
was thenceforth consecrated ; that he entered the dwell- 
ings of men, that he sat with them at their tables, that 
he noticed and embraced their children, that he mingled 
in their scenes of domestic endearment, and smiled upon 
their loves, and pitied their sorrows, and healed their 
diseases, and went with them weeping to the tombs of 
their friends, and prayed for them there, and prayed,- 
22 



254 



CHRIST S LOVE FOR MAN. 



not in vain, that the dead should come forth, and life 
and love be immortal. We would see these places 
and events, in faith and heart, if we may not in literal 
presence, and feel that it is literal, that it is all passing 
before us, and coming over us, subduing and thrilling, 
with a like indescribable power to that which many of 
us have experienced in visiting the peaceful shades 
and hallowed dust of Mount Vernon. Whose is the 
heart that can rest on that sacred mound and not swell 
and glow with new and higher life ? Then why is it 
that we do not feel at least as much, at least as truly, 
when we think of an event, and bring around us the 
reality of a scene, infinitely more sacred ? Why is it, 
that when we follow Him who went about doing good, 
follow him by a living faith through all the passages of 
his life to its end, and there stand in the very garden 
which witnessed his agony, and kneel at the cross on 
which he bled and died for us, — yea, for us, for ours, 
for all, — our hearts do not throb and glow with as deep 
emotion and fervent love as when we look upon the 
graves of our own departed ? 

Is it not partly, ascribing what you will to other 
causes, — is it not chiefly, to be ascribed to a want of 
faith, or the vagueness and weakness of faith, as to the 
reality of those events and this character, — the reality 
of the love of Christ in life and death ? Wherever 
there is such weakness or want, it is clear that it goes 
to the very root, and may prevent or stint all growth of 
the sentiment which we desire to create. Let this, then, 
be considered the first requisite ; and let every one feel 
that it is in his power, and therefore his duty, to build 
up in the understanding and the affections this founda- 
tion for a right appreciation of the love of Christ. Let 



Christ's love for man. 



255 



him make the history of Christ, the reality of his being 
and words and works, so familiar, so present and near 
and personal, that in the place of doubt and distance, 
cold theory or ideal beauty, there shall be the simple 
fervor of a warm and grateful heart, clinging to the 
truest, kindest, best of friends. " The love of Christ 
constraineth us." 

In the second place, we may help this, and under- 
stand yet better the love of Christ, by considering and 
remembering that this love was voluntary. This is 
another sense in which it may appear and be to us 
real. It is essential to its reality. You cannot con- 
ceive of true love in Christ for man, unless you regard 
him as free and acting freely. Yet all do not so regard 
him, if we understand them. Many suppose Christ to 
have acted under a kind of necessity, a foreordination, 
a binding contract, or some mysterious and altogether 
peculiar influence. Those who make him God, the 
Almighty Creator and Governor of all worlds, must 
view him as only continuing in Christianity those works 
of power and mercy in which he has always been en- 
gaged, and which fail to give him the personal and visi- 
ble nearness which the Gospel gives to Christ. In 
most schemes of doctrine respecting the Messiah, there 
seems to be a strangeness and confusion in the views 
taken of his nature, such as deprive his love of the 
character of natural, free, voluntary affection. In the 
thought of his relation to the Father and the universe 
while he lived on earth, and yet more, in the thought 
of his present relation to God and to us, his present 
love and personal influence, there is mystery and painful 
perplexity. If he is in any way different now, in per- 
son or relation, from what he appeared here, it becomes 



256 



Christ's love for man. 



difficult, if not impossible, to bring him near to us, to 
commune with him as we would commune with a friend 
and brother, to compare his affection for us with that 
of any other of which we have knowledge, and thus feel 
its power and revere its holy beauty. 

This is one reason why we value our own views of 
Christ, and attach to them the highest spiritual and prac- 
tical value. They make the Saviour to be a being of 
human sympathies and tenderness, single, simple, divine. 
He comes to men as his brethren. He calls them 
brethren, and his intercourse with them is strictly fra- 
ternal. He calls them friends, and he lives with them 
in a kind of friendship and fellowship which I cannot 
imagine between men and their Maker. With Christ, 
the Son of God, the Son of man, it is natural, intelli- 
gible, beautiful. It accords with my reason, it ad- 
dresses and moves my whole being. I see Jesus of 
Nazareth visiting the people of Judea, and blessing all 
whom he visits, not because it is right or necessary, not 
because it was foretold and must needs be fulfilled 
(though the fact of prediction and fulfilment is seen), 
but because his heart prompts it. The benevolence 
of his soul moves and melts him in human and di- 
vine love. I see him going over the towns and vil- 
lages, in the exercise of spontaneous, ever-fresh, never- 
wearied beneficence. I see him enter a house, and sit 
down to meat with a proud Pharisee, who had con- 
descendingly invited him, — and lo ! a humble woman, 
whom others called " a sinner," and would have re- 
coiled from her touch, approaches his feet, and washes 
them with her tears, and wipes them with the hairs of 
her head, and kisses those feet, and anoints them with 
costly ointment ; and I hear him declaring her sins 



Christ's love for man. 



257 



forgiven, because she " loved much." I see him visit- 
ing another Mary, when she and her sister mourned the 
loss of an only brother, whom Jesus had loved ; and 
nothing can surpass the sympathy and tenderness with 
which he ministers to their comfort and restores their 
treasure. The miracle of power is astounding, but it is 
almost swallowed up in the miracle of love. Again, I 
see him weeping over the magnificent but doomed city, 
in the anguish of a soul that knew the suffering which 
that city was to inflict upon him, but thought most of 
the woes it was bringing upon itself. And yet again, 
as I follow him, he is stopped at the entrance of another 
and more obscure city, where 

" From out the city's gate there came a bier. 
A mother's only son upon it lay, 
A widowed mother, who for many a day 
Had him alone to love ; — and oft the tear 
Of bitter grief she poured, as at his side, 

With sorrow's trembling step, she slowly went. 
The Saviour came ; with mercy's blest intent, 
He gazed upon the hearse, beheld the tide 
Of anguish which flowed forth ; compassionate, 

' Weep not,' he said, and touched the bier. ' Arise, 
Young man, to life.' — The dead unclosed his eyes, 
And the blest hand which raised him from the grave 
Him to a mother's throbbing bosom gave." 

But we cannot multiply instances. Open the Gospels, 
and they meet your eye wherever it turns. They make 
the life of the blessed Saviour. And that which we 
now particularly observe is their simplicity, quietness, 
and perfect naturalness. They keep before us the 
Saviour, yet not so much at the time the Saviour of 
the world, as the friend of man, of social man, man the 
sufferer, the sinner, the mourner, the disconsolate. We 
22* 



258 



Christ's love for man. 



do not see even the Teacher so much as the Com- 
forter. We do not think of a Being to be worshipped 
and served, but one who loves and serves others. 
" The Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but 
to minister." He seeks the lost. He blesses those 
who persecute him. He gives himself for the world. 

Thirdly, the love of Christ is visible. Not only is it 
real and voluntary, it is visible to all, here and every- 
where. We need not go back to remote times to see 
this love. If those times seem to any too remote for 
vision, and their alleged character undefined and dim, 
there are nearer, distinct, and indisputable traces. The 
scoffer cannot escape, the doubter need not be per- 
plexed by distance and vagueness. Men of the world, 
wise and practical men as they are called, need not and 
should not think that they have no concern here, and 
cannot take any intelligent interest in the love of Christ. 
Nothing can be more practical, more present, than this 
love. Its effects are everywhere seen, and all men 
share them. Its influence is universal, and every one 
feels it, whether grateful or scornful. What is Chris- 
tianity but the expression of that love ? What is philan- 
thropy but its effluence and image ? How constantly 
and beautifully has the love of man for his brother, his 
country, the world, warmed and expanded, as Christian- 
ity has advanced ! Who will say, that he does not feel 
the power and blessing of this love, in whatever form or 
measure he accepts the religion ? The institutions of 
benevolence which it has reared, the offices of mercy 
which it has prompted, the treasures of knowledge which 
it has made free as air, the moral equality which it has 
created and is extending, the principles of peace it is 
quietly diffusing, the forgiveness of enemies, the recom- 



Christ's love for man. 



259 



pense of good for evil, the high-minded endurance and 
more than heroic valor which it has substituted for brute 
force, the true manliness which it has given to man's 
daring, and the elevation, devotion, unfading loveliness, 
and heavenly charity with which it has invested woman, 

— what are all these but the fruit of that love which 
poured itself out for a world lying in darkness, sunk in 
wickedness and woe ? 

Once more, measure, if you can, the result of this 
love, contemplate at least its greatness and nearness in 
regard to death, — natural and spiritual death. It is 
in this, not least, that the love of Christ shines out from 
the thick darkness which it penetrated and scattered. It 
is by this especially that every one, whatever his views 
or conduct, is sometimes constrained to feel the pres- 
ence and own the blessing of this love. " The love of 
Christ constraineth us ; because we thus judge, that if 
one died for all, then were all dead." All were dead, 

— dead in heart, dead in hope, seeing and suffering death 
in its worst terrors. For Death then was not the mes- 
senger he now is, Sterner was his visage, darker his 
form. His iron hand closed with a more merciless grasp 
upon the trembling subjects of his power, and the prison 
into which he threw them swung its heavy doors with a 
sound that sent desolation into every sorrowing soul. It 
has enough of desolation now ; but little can we know of 
its awfulness then. The earth was full of evil, and to 
most minds earth bounded their being. Many had hope 5 
but there was a faintness at the heart, and when it was 
stricken it died within them. 

Jesus looked upon them. He saw their sorrows, 
he saw them go to the grave only to weep there. He 
heard even those who believed in him express their fear 



260 



CHRIST S LOVE FOR MAN. 



and almost despair. He thanked God for the pow- 
er given him to dispel this gloom ; and while tears of 
sympathy attested the energy of love, and mingled with 
the prayer of faith, he poured into those saddened hearts 
the oil of joy for mourning, and for the spirit of heavi- 
ness clothed them with a garment of praise. The Re- 
vealer, the Conquerer, the Comforter, is seen ; and the 
deepest darkness of earth is broken. From that hour, 
what blessing, what solace, what immortal hope, has this 
love diffused ! No imagination can number the hearts it 
has soothed, the homes it has cheered. Proof of this 
love do you need ? Uncertainty is there, distance, and 
doubt ? Say rather, what a cloud of witnesses to the 
reality and the blessing ! What a band of believers, 
sorrowing not as those without hope, do we everywhere 
see ! The dread messenger still walks among us, but 
how changed his aspect ! Not a sufferer with any faith, 
scarcely those without faith, when the trial and the need 
come, are unaffected by the change. The face of so- 
ciety, the expression of the world, is renewed. The 
voices of the dying and the surviving take up and send 
out, not their old, but a new song. u Blessed are they 
that mourn. Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord. 
The victory is ours. It is the victory of faith. It is 
the triumph of redeeming love." 

Redeeming. For not natural only, but spiritual death 
is subdued by the power of Christ. His love warmed 
toward the sinner, as well as the mourner. It saw that 
men were dead in sin, and that this death was infinitely 
the most dreadful. It yearned to abolish it. It counted 
its own sorrow and suffering as nothing, — to be reject- 
ed of men, to be scorned by the many, to be doubted 
by the chosen few, to be understood by none, to be all 



Christ's love for man. 



261 



alone in the world, filled with faith and glowing with 
love yet knowing that this was unseen or despised, for- 
saken in the hour of bitter trial, scourged by those whom 
he had blessed and would save, left to die on the cross 
of ignominy, — all this was dark, it was harrowing, it 
wrung blood from the aching heart, it caused the cry 
of agony to go up in the awful struggle, — " My God, 
my God, why hast thou forsaken me ? " But it could 
not quench the power of love; — "Father, forgive 
them, for they know not what they do." It prevailed. 
He lived again. Again he blessed his friends, spoke 
words of comfort, gave promises to all, and sealed the 
reconciliation to God, ascending to him as his Father 
and ours, imparting, in every age since, light, peace, 
and immortal life to the captives of sin and the prisoners 
of hope. 

In all this, how clearly may we discern and feel the 
power of reconciliation, the great and gracious object 
of the Saviour's death ! He died to redeem from 
iniquity, to save from sin ; and all who cease from 
sin are saved. " For we thus judge, that if one 
died for all, then were all dead ; and that he died for 
all, that they which live" — here is the declared pur- 
pose, here is the moral efficacy — " should not hence- 
forth live unto themselves, but unto him who died for 
them, and rose again." Thus does the love of Christ, 
in death, constrain us. Thus only does it aim to con- 
strain us ; by no mysterious power, independently of 
our will, apart from our communion and cooperation, 
but by addressing and securing these ; by appealing 
to the heart, quickening the conscience, touching the 
springs of gratitude, making us humble, reconciling us 
to the Father, filling us with love to God, to Christ, to 



262 



Christ's love for man. 



man ; leading us to live, not unto ourselves, but unto 
Him who died for us, — to live and die in the fellow- 
ship of his spirit, and the diffusion of the holy influence 
of his religion. 

In a word, Christ lived and loved, taught, labored, 
suffered, and died, to raise a world from death, to life 
and liberty. A world ! — all that then lived, all that 
should live and believe through the coming ages. He 
knew no narrower limits, no lower or feebler purpose. 
From that little spot of the globe called Judea, from the 
bosom of the narrowest and most selfish people, from 
the heart of a city the proudest on earth but already 
reeling to its ruin, from the midst of enemies and revil- 
ers, nay, from the very tree accursed, as he hung in its 
death of agony, his eye of faith and affection looked 
forth upon nations, worlds, and countless ages, all to 
rejoice in the light of his truth and the salvation of his 
love. God, of his great goodness, help us so to rejoice ! 
Spirit of truth and love, manifest in Jesus, visit us again, 
and abide with us all, in thy near presence, thy glorious 
power, thy gracious and eternal communion ! 



SERMON XXII. 



BY STEPHEN G. BULFINCH. 



THE SUFFERINGS OF CHRIST. 

HE WAS OPPRESSED, AND HE WAS AFFLICTED, YET HE OPENED NOT 
HIS MOUTH : HE IS BROUGHT AS A LAMB TO THE SLAUGHTER, 
AND AS A SHEEP BEFORE HER SHEARERS IS DUMB, SO HE OPEN- 

eth not his mouth. — Isaiah liii. 7. 

That the passage from which these words are taken 
is prophetic of our Saviour has been the belief of his 
church from its earliest ages. To whom else, indeed, 
the words could relate, of whom but of Christ it could 
be said that he was cut off from the land of the living, 
that he was stricken for the transgression of the people, 
and that after this suffering he should prolong his days, 
is a question of exceeding difficulty. Well might the 
servant of the Ethiopian queen be bewildered as to the 
application of the passage, and well might he, when 
Philip explained its reference to the crucifixion of Jesus, 
embrace with gratitude and joy a religion attested thus 
by the sure word of prophecy. 

In that inspired description of the Redeemer, his 
sufferings and his glory, bearing date so many centuries 
before his birth, the most touching words are those of 
our text, predicting the patience with which his trials 



264 



THE SUFFERINGS OF CHRIST. 



were endured. That patience we would now contem- 
plate in connection with the circumstances that called it 
forth, and the other glorious qualities with which it was 
allied. 

The writer to the Hebrews tells us, that it became our 
Heavenly Father, u in bringing many sons unto glory, 
to make the Captain of their salvation perfect through 
sufferings." Not, indeed, that the Saviour needed this 
fiery trial to purify that gold which was already without 
alloy. It was not that his character might increase in 
excellence, but that its excellence might fully appear. 
Already had he exhibited, in his life of toilsome and 
unceasing beneficence, in his fearless and energetic at- 
tacks on the vices and prejudices of his most powerful 
countrymen, in every laborious journey, when he went 
about doing good, in every gracious miracle, and every 
kind word and look, the moral proofs of his Divine com- 
mission to guide and to bless mankind. Nor had the pas- 
sive virtues failed to appear in his meek and steadfast 
endurance of toil, reproach, and danger ; but to these 
and to all the crown was now to be added, in the sacri- 
fice of his life. By a most painful, and, as then consid- 
ered, most disgraceful public execution, was the divine 
martyr to close his trials. 

Of actual bodily pain we need not say much. True 
it is that "greater love hath no man than this, that a 
man lay down his life for his friends." Yet there is no 
doubt that others have met death with firmness, in a 
good, or even in a questionable cause. Some few have 
met it with that firmness in forms as agonizing as that 
in which it was endured by our Saviour. But it was in 
the circumstances of his crucifixion that its peculiar ter- 
rors consisted. On other martyrs, death has come 



THE SUFFERINGS OF CHRIST. 265 

unexpectedly and unavoidably, or they have been sup 
ported in the last hour by the gaze of admiring and sym- 
pathizing friends, or human pride has checked the tear, 
and stifled the groan, which would have burst from 
human agony. With Jesus it was not so. 

To other sufferers, I have said, death has come com- 
paratively unexpected. They have known of their fate 
but for a short time, a few weeks, perhaps, before it over- 
took them, and then there was something in the sudden 
approach of the dark hour which called up at once every 
energy of the soul to meet it. It was not thus with 
Jesus. He had known of that coming hour from the 
very first. He had spoken of it to his disciples at times 
when they could not understand and would not believe 
him. The dark image had been constantly before his 
soul, and he had had time to see it in all its horrors. 
There is in the hour of death itself r there is in the im- 
mediate anticipation of it, a feeling of such high excite- 
ment as renders man almost insensible to pains which at 
another moment would be felt with agonizing acuteness. 
It is not on the battle-field that the soldier is fearful ; it 
is in the silence of his tent, when imagination presents 
to him the plain covered with the dying, the burning 
wound, the torn limbs, — every horror that follows in the 
•train of war, — but without that fever of the moment, 
through which, in the hour of action, these things are un- 
seen and unregarded. Thus it was with Jesus. In the 
midnight silence of Gethsemane, with no one near but his 
unconscious, slumbering Apostles, he had a foretaste, in 
its full bitterness, of that cup of woe which awaited him 
on the morrow. To die is the common lot of man ; to 
anticipate a death of the most painful kind, with a per- 
23 



266 



THE SUFFERINGS OF CHRIST. 



feet knowledge how and when it will come, is a trial 
which few are called to bear. 

But this was not the only, nor the most remarkable, 
circumstance of pain which distinguished the close of 
our Saviour's life. No other, indeed, has had for so long 
a course of time his complete foreknowledge of his com- 
ing doom. Yet many have been placed in circumstances 
where a violent death must have appeared as the prob- 
able, nay, certain termination of their course. But in 
another peculiarity of his situation the Saviour was 
equally without a parallel. He was alone. There is a 
pleasure among the noblest of which man is capable, 
w T hen a mind of large conceptions and extended views 
can meet with others, with but a single other, like itself. 
The origin and the crown of the noblest friendship con^ 
sists in this, — in two high souls being able to share in 
the same great ideas ; and such enjoyment would have 
been our Saviour's, had there been a single one of his 
followers who could entirely enter into his views. But 
there was not one. Their modes of thought, their mo- 
tives, their hopes, w^ere different from his. He aimed 
at the reformation of the world ; they, at the reestablish- 
ment of the glory of Israel. He was preparing for 
death, and through death for a moral victory ; they, for 
earthly conquests and earthly power. There w 7 as not 
a being on earth whom he could cause to understand his 
destiny, his true character, or the object of his coming 
into the world. Often did he tell his disciples, often, 
and as it seems to us with the most entire plainness of 
speech, that the Son of man was to be delivered up of 
the chief priests and scribes, that he w T as to be put to 
death, and that the third day he should rise again. But 
they understood him not. So firmly was the idea fixed 



THE SUFFERINGS OF CHRIST. 



267 



in their minds that he was to abide for ever, and to free 
Israel from its enemies, that they did not imagine his 
words could have their common, literal meaning ; and 
when it occured to them that their Messiah really ex- 
pected to die, " Peter took him and began to rebuke 
him, saying, Be it far from thee, Lord ; this shall not be 
unto thee." Yet these were his friends, his intimate, 
his bosom friends ; and these understood not his charac- 
ter sufficiently. to yield him their sympathy. See him 
the very night before his crucifixion. He has told them 
that one of them should betray him, that the Son of 
man was going, as it was written of him. Accompa- 
ny him and them to the garden ; see those very disciples 
sleeping ; and hear his melancholy reproof,—" Could ye 
not watch with me one hour ? Rise up, let us go : be- 
hold ! he that betray eth me is at hand." There was 
but one Being in the universe to whom he could look 
for aid or consolation ; and to Him he directed himself 
in that memorable prayer, — " Father, if it be possible, 
let this cup pass from me ; nevertheless, not as I will, 
but as thou wilt." 

And how was it when he had been taken prisoner ? 
Then the connection between him and all who had held 
hkn dear seemed broken at once. See him as he 
stands in the hall of the high-priest, listening to the 
false witnesses who give against him their contradictory 
evidence. Where are the multitudes who, a few days 
before, greeted with their hosannas his entrance into 
Jerusalem ? Some of those voices are mingling in the 
cry for his death. Where are those Apostles, with whom 
but last night he affectionately partook of the social meal 
and of social converse ? One of them has betrayed 
and the rest have forsaken him. But there was one 



268 



THE SUFFERINGS OF CHRIST. 



louder than all in his protestations of friendship. Where 
now is he, the devoted Peter, who at last night's banquet 
would hardly permit his Master to perform for him that 
emblematic service which his fellow-disciples had accept- 
ed, — who said, that though he should die with him, yet 
would he not deny him, — who drew his sword to pre- 
vent the seizure of his Master, — where is he now ? 
With his fidelity not quite extinguished, he has followed 
alone, afar off, to the palace of the high-priest. But 
where, in those halls, does he take his station ? By his 
Master's side, to claim a portion in his trial and in his 
sufferings ? Alas, no ! In the outer room, among the 
servants of the high-priest, now affecting indifference to 
the passing scene, now shrinking from the too searching 
glances of the by-standers, he casts from time to time a 
cautious glance toward his friend and Lord. Can it be, 
he asks himself, that our scribes are right, and that Jesus 
is indeed an impostor, that his mighty works have been 
done by the aid of the powers of darkness ? If not, 
why is he here, — bound, tried, and at this moment 
condemned by those who sit in the judgment-seat of Mo- 
ses ? But his pale and agitated countenance attracts at- 
tention ; he is questioned as to his connection with the 
prisoner. And now that his mind has lost the balance of 
its powers, fear, personal fear, the lowest of motives, to 
which at another moment he would have scorned to 
listen, takes possession of him, and friendship, duty, 
truth, are forgotten. " I know not the man ! " He 
repeats it, he confirms it with false oaths. Jesus knew 
that at that moment the most ardent of his followers was 
denying him. He turned from his enemies to cast one 
sad look on the desertion of his friend ; and now he stood 
alone, with no reliance but upon his God. 



THE SUFFERINGS OF CHRIST. 



269 



Before we. pass to the scenes that followed, we may- 
pause to notice another fact, which, while it rendered 
more intense the trial experienced by our Saviour, adds 
proportionate gloiy to his noble endurance. These 
sufferings were voluntary on his part. What power, 
other than a sense of duty, compelled him to visit Jeru- 
salem, with the fatal result of that visit full in view ? 
What power compelled him, after the supper, to resort 
to the place where he knew that Judas would conduct 
his captors ? Nay, even when surrounded by the guards 
of his enemies, what was his language ? " Thinkest 
thou," he said, ¥ that I cannot now pray to my Fa- 
ther, and he will presently give me more than twelve 
legions of angels ? But how then shall the Scriptures 
be fulfilled, that thus it must be ? " We see in this the 
confirmation of what is elsewhere said, that " God 
gave not the spirit by measure unto him." He might 
have delivered himself by a miracle. Had not this pow- 
er been conferred upon him, his trial would not have 
been complete. He had the power, but he knew his 
Father's will, and he used it not. 

We have taken a view of the circumstances under 
which our Redeemer laid down his life. Unsustained 
by the excitement arising from an unexpected danger, 
uncheered by the sympathy of kindred minds, he calmly, 
voluntarily submitted to die. Let us pass on to the 
contemplation of the closing scene. 

In the palace of the high-priest, he appeals to the 
evidence of those who had heard him. When one of the 
by-standers answers by a blow, he says, with mild digni- 
ty, — "If I have spoken evil, bear witness of the evil ; 
but if well, why smitest thou me?" He takes but little 
notice of their accusations ; but when, by competent au- 
23 * 



270 



THE SUFFERINGS OF CHRIST. 



thority, and in the name of God, he is asked whether 
he is the Messiah, he replies in the affirmative. His 
predetermined judges exclaim, u What need we any fur- 
ther witness ? Behold, now ye have heard his blasphe- 
my. " Now 7 is the tide of malignity freed from all bounds. 
Abuse is heaped upon him. "Prophesy unto us, thou 
Christ," they exclaimed, u Who is he that smote thee ? " 
They lead him unresisting to the Roman governor, with- 
out whose sanction they have not authority to put him to 
death. He is charged with sacrilege, as an offence 
against the Jewish laws, and with treason against the 
Roman government. The proconsul, too clear-sighted 
to believe in his guilt, still gives him up, and with him 
justice and duty, to the calls of a timid and cold-hearted 
policy ; and now commences another scene of cruelty 
and ingratitude. Arrayed by the soldiers of Herod and 
Pilate in the mock emblems of royalty, — then, faint from 
scourging, bearing the heavy cross through the city and 
up the fatal hill, — what is his deportment ? Hear his 
words to that crowd of lamenting females. They are 
words that flowed from a heart even then full of an- 
guish at the thought of his ungrateful country's approach- 
ing doom : — " Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for 
me, but weep for yourselves and for your children." 

He has passed on ; he is nailed lo the cross ! 

Others have been supported in the last hour by pride, 
or have been overwhelmed with fear to such a degree 
as to produce a partial suspension of the power of feel- 
ing. Jesus felt death in all its bitterness, and, all digni- 
fied, all patient, as he was, there was no artificial heroism 
in his conduct. A stupefying draught, wine mingled 
with myrrh, was offered him to allay the agony he must 
endure. He turned from it, for he felt that it became 



THE SUFFERINGS OF CHRIST. 



271 



him not to diminish his suffering by such means ; and 
even thus did he reject every mental support which 
others have derived from pride or from earthly wisdom. 
The firmness he showed was that of true humility, and 
confident, filial dependence on God. He suppressed 
not altogether those sighs of pain which nature demand- 
ed, for it was not his object to seem patient, but to be so. 

The passers-by are mocking him in his pain, and he 
is praying that they may be forgiven. There are two, 
however, who stand near him, far differently disposed 
from these. One is a mother. She sees her child, her 
loved, her holy child, the expected Redeemer of Israel, 
dying in torture. What are her thoughts ? Is there 
one among them, at that moment, fixed on herself ? O, 
no, no ! They are with him, they dwell on his wounds, 
his distorted, agonized features. But though she thinks 
not of herself, he in his last hour has a thought for her. 
The words which pain allows him to pronounce are but 
few. u Woman, behold thy son ! Son, behold thy 
mother ! " The affecting charge was well understood, 
and faithfully obeyed. " From that hour, that disciple 
took her unto his own home." 

The centurion, we are told, when he saw the earth- 
quake and those things that were done, said, — u Truly, 
this was the Son of God ! " In the record of the 
Evangelists we also see these things ; we hear the voice, 
we see the feelings, of the holy sufferer. Shall not our 
hearts unite in the same confession ? He who was thus 
led as a lamb to the slaughter, — whose holy patience 
and unbounded love shone the more gloriously, the more 
the clouds of sorrow gathered round him, — who thus, 
through death, overcame death, — he was the Son of 
God, the Saviour of the world. 



272 



THE SUFFERINGS OF CHRIST. 



My brethren, there are some who appear to think 
that the Christian religion, even if it be true, has no 
claims on them. To such, the language of the Gospel is, 
— " Ye are not your own ; ye are bought with a price." 
The gracious Redeemer hath shed his blood for you. For 
you he bore the rejection of friends ; you are of those 
for whom he prayed when he committed to his Heavenly 
Father all who should believe on him ; for you the iron 
entered into his soul when Peter denied him ; for you 
he bore the harsh blows and bitter taunts of enemies ; 
for you he submitted himself even to the death of the 
cross. For all these sufferings he claims your service ; 
he claims that you should be and own yourselves his 
disciples, receive his light yoke, and bear his easy bur- 
den. Can you view unmoved the agony in the garden ? 
Can you enter the hall of Caiaphas and that of Pilate, 
can you stand with Mary and John at the foot of the 
cross, and then turn coldly away ? In the delineation 
which has been given, I have not attempted to place be- 
fore you every touching incident of that event, so im- 
portant to the human race. Time would soon fail to 
comment satisfactorily on all the particulars of the final 
scene alone. But let any one who feels an interest in 
the subject peruse for himself the closing chapters of 
the four Evangelists, from the conversation recorded by 
John to the time when Jesus said, "It is finished ! " 
" and bowed his head and gave up the ghost," — let any 
one examine these with a candid mind and a feeling heart, 
and then deny, if he can, his allegiance to the cross of 
Christ. 

How, then, is that allegiance to be manifested ? The 
rite which commemorates the Saviour's sufferings is its 
outward sign ; and, as such, the feelings of the disciple 



THE SUFFERINGS OF CHRIST. 



273 



will prompt him to its use. But there is a holier service 
than this. Ye are my friends, said Jesus, if ye do 
whatsoever I command you. He calls you to obey his 
laws ; hexalls you to tread in his steps, to own him in 
your hearts and lives as your Master, to take up his cross 
and follow him. Are there difficulties in your way ? 
Is the cross even yet heavy to be borne ? Think how he 
endured it, and ask if you can plead exemption from 
the trials that attend it now. 

How different is the view of life which is presented 
to us when we contemplate it from the hill of Calvary, 
from the foot of the Saviour's cross, compared with that 
which greets us illuminated by the bright but deceitful 
radiance of selfish hope ! Life, to the man of the 
world, especially to the young man, appears as a scene 
where the great object is enjoyment ; where evil indeed 
exists, — by some strange mistake, as it would seem, in 
the first constitution of things, — but where this evil is 
to be guarded against as carefully as possible, and pleas- 
ure in one or in another form is ever to be held in view. 
But when we contemplate Jesus, we learn a higher les- 
son. We discern the beauty, the holiness, of suffering. 
We see that pain of body and distress of mind, sus- 
tained in a noble and a holy spirit, have something 
brighter in them than the gayest hues of earthly enjoy- 
ment. The existence of sorrow in the world is no 
longer regarded as a blot on the bright creation of God ; 
nor does enjoyment alone seem worthy to be viewed as 
the object of our existence. Sorrow appears to us 
the glorious and glorifying messenger of our Creator, 
and we discern this earth, this checkered scene of 
pleasure and of trial, as that wherein we are to work 
out our Father's will, now with humble gratitude, and 



274 THE SUFFERINGS OF CHRIST. 

now with patient, cheerful endurance. Happy shall we 
be, if we learn thus to imitate the holy sufferer. Hap- 
py shall we be, if we thus receive those trials with 
w T hich our Father sees fit to exercise us. Happy, if 
the love of our Saviour is in our hearts, and his own 
pure, fervent love to God and to mankind is transferred 
to our characters. Happy, even if we are called to suf- 
fer with him here, for we shall be like him in the spirit 
of our minds ; and when we come to share his glorious 
companionship on high, the rapture of sight, if that be 
granted, will be surpassed by the rapture of conscious 
resemblance to our holy Lord. 



SERMON XXIII. 



BY ORVILLE DEWEY. 



ON THE REMEMBRANCE OF CHRIST.* 

THIS DO IN REMEMBRANCE OF ME. — Luke Xxii. 19. 

The point upon which I lay stress at present, in 
this passage of Scripture, is the remembrance. Jesus 
prayed his disciples to remember him. Not celebrity, 
not fame, did he ask, but remembrance. It was a prayer 
of friendship. It was the desire of an affectionate heart, 
the depth of whose tenderness, I think, we have scarce- 
ly yet learned to appreciate. The majesty of the Son 
of God has overlaid to our view the gentleness of the 
Son of man. If we would dismiss the thoughts of that 
wide dominion which his name has gained in the world, 
if we would forget the triumphs of the cross in its original 
ignominy and sorrow, if we would go back in our 
thoughts to that last Supper, over whose affectionate 
communings was already spread the shadow of coming 
danger and sorrow, — death, desertion, betrayal at hand, 
— we could better understand the pathos of that touch- 
ing request, u Remember me." 

* Preached on Good Friday. 



276 ON THE REMEMBRANCE OF CHRIST. 

We are assembled this morning in obedience to this 
request ; we are assembled, with multitudes in Christen- 
dom, to consecrate these hours to the great Christian 
remembrance ; to the memory of Christ, to the memory 
of his passion and patience. We have thought it good 
so to assemble ; and this conviction of ours, this unusu- 
al gathering, is one of the many significant indications 
which the present day furnishes, of a great reaction in 
favor of the past. Protestantism seems nearly to have 
fulfilled its mission to destroy, and is showing many 
signs of a disposition to rebuild the waste temple of the 
old worship. It has run the length of its departure from 
the ancient Church, and is inclined to retrace its steps, 
not to the communion of that Church, as at present con- 
stituted, but to some of its venerable usages. And that 
will be a good time, I -must think, when the present, 
not receiving, indeed, the errors of the past, shall nev- 
ertheless gather up the wisdom of the past, and profit 
by it. And in particular, I cannot doubt that that econ- 
omy of old, still retained, too, in some of the Protestant 
communions, by which certain eras of the Christian 
year are signalized by special observances and medita- 
tions, is suited to our nature and fitted to be profitable. 
The Christian year ! Yes, there is such a thing. 
There is a solar year, which marks out the simple pro- 
gress of time. There is a Christian year, which invests 
that time with sacred associations ; which marks out the 
seasons and points the instructions of the Christian dis- 
pensation ; which tells, as it passes on, the story of re- 
demption. This view of the year helps to impart to 
time the spiritual character that belongs to it. I would 
have days and months, times and seasons, remind me of 
the solemn course of my life ; and I cannot consent any 



ON THE REMEMBRANCE OF CHRIST. 277 



longer, with ultra-Protestantism, to confound the use of 
ceremony with the abuse of it. Protestantism, in its 
prevailing forms, is certainly too naked and bare of all 
spiritual associations. It is remarkable that it stands 
apart, in this respect, from all other religious commun- 
ions of all ages, whether Christian or pagan. 

It seems naturally to have fallen to the charge of the 
Roman Church — the oldest form of Christianity that 
arose after the primitive time had passed away — to 
keep alive more of symbolic usage, and to clothe itself 
with more of venerable, ritual association, than any 
other. In its most ancient seats, life, the special relig- 
ious life, is wrapped up in religion, is surrounded and 
clothed with spiritual emblems, to an extent of which, in 
our practical, working-day world, we can scarcely con- 
ceive. At every corner, at every step almost, there is 
a church, or shrine, or image, or picture, before which 
prayers are said or the sign of the cross is made. So 
constant is this, that prayer seems to be the very breath 
of life ; the sign of the cross seems to be pictured in the 
very air. Time itself is divided into hours of devotion. 
Nay, it dates from the Ave Maria ; it numbers the 
hours of the day, not from the morning, or noontide, 
or midnight, but from vespers, — the hour of evening 
prayer. The different religious orders make arrange- 
ment to offer their devotions through every successive 
hour of the day and night, that prayer may never cease. 
Some of those orders, too, are clothed all over with 
sacred emblems, in their ordinary habiliments. The 
three-cornered hat is regarded as an emblem of the 
Trinity ; the hair left around the shaven crown is the 
sign of the crown of thorns ; and the cross is often 
24 



278 ON THE REMEMBRANCE OF CHRIST. 



wrought upon the robe, and so is carried upon the per- 
son as a perpetual memento. 

Of course I do not mention these things as approving 
of them ; but I think it not useless for us, who stand on 
the one extreme, to know what is done at the other ex- 
treme. Nay, the excess of usage in the past is the 
precise explanation of the neglect of it in the present. 

But the Holy Week, as it is observed in that ancient 
communion, is more worthy of our attention at the pres- 
ent moment, as it is the commemoration of Christ in his 
sufferings. It seems to be the great consummation of 
the spiritual year, to which, especially in the previous 
season of Lent, all things are tending. Preachings, 
catechizings in the churches, — in some of them twice 
each day, — the communion partaken of by the entire 
population ; and ceremonies and means of every kind 
are multiplied ; and the week itself is crowded with 
symbolic and commemorative rites. Palm Sunday, that 
which precedes the crucifixion, is the occasion of a 
solemn and appropriate ceremonial. The successive 
days of the week are occupied with services bearing 
reference to the passion of Christ. In every church a 
sepulchre is prepared, — a small sarcophagus, placed 
upon the altar, to receive the host, the emblem of 
Christ's body, on the day of interment. Priests are 
seen passing in all directions, with vases of holy water, 
to bless the houses ; they enter all houses and shops, 
and with sprinkling and a form of holy words they bless 
the utensils, the furniture, and all things within. And 
when the hour of the Resurrection arrives, it is an- 
nounced by a burst of cannon, and ringing of bells 
through the city. Many, indeed, regard it as a mere 
pageant familiar to them, and go their way, to their 



ON THE REMEMBRANCE OF CHRIST. 



279 



merchandise or their pleasure ; but others fall upon their 
knees in the street, in homage to that solemn hour. 

In all this there is something with which to sympa- 
thize ; in the solemnity of this season ; in the remem- 
brance of him who in his sorrow asked to be remem- 
bered ; in this great u worship of sorrow " ; and espe- 
cially in that solemn and awful miserere, sung in the hour 
of his crucifixion, — the lights one by one extinguished, 
as if the world were to be left in utter darkness, and 
prelates and priests all fallen prostrate around the altar, 
— then slowly rising and swelling through gloom and 
silence that mournful and monotonous burden of sound, 
like the blended and softened, but heavy and deep, moan 
of a world's calamity ; and yet one voice and another 
from time to time parting off from the deep under-tone, 
in soft breathings, in plaintive wailings, sighings, and sobs 
of music, that come out from the low burden of melody 
as if each one, in some general calamity, were giving 
way to his own individual grief ; and yet not one single 
strain, nor any filament of sound, but is woven into the 
wondrous harmony, — all this surely is fitted to touch 
the heart, and I can well conceive that a heart attuned 
for this mournful service might be buried for the time in 
a trance of sorrow. 

So is Christ remembered in the most ancient seats of 
his religion. What is the proper remembrance of him 
for us ? 

I can conceive that the question may arise in some 
minds, Was it designed that Christ should hold this 
place in the memory and commemoration of mankind ? 
Did he himself expect it ? Is there no danger that the 
religious life will be confined, contracted, by this con- 
stant and almost exclusive reference to Christ, — that it 



280 ON THE REMEMBRANCE OF CHRIST. 



will be apt to lose freedom, self-unfolding, self-subsist- 
ence, naturalness, and manliness ? 

I answer, in the first place, Do not the Scriptures 
evidently assign to him this place in the memory and 
affection of Christians ? Is he not made, by God's ap- 
pointment, the perpetual Head of this community, this 
spiritual creation, the Church, — Head over all things to 
the Church, which is his body ? Is it not written, that 
" at his name every knee shall bow and every tongue 
shall confess that he is Lord, to the glory of God, the 
Father " ? And did he not himself expect this ? Did 
he not say, " And I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men 
to me " ? Did not his last solemn prayer for his disci- 
ples extend to all who should believe on him through 
their word, — that they all should be one in him ? And, 
in the second place, I say, Can we not see the fitness of 
all this ? Is it not a part of the great social and spir- 
itual order established in this world, that good influences 
should flow out from one to many, — from the parent to 
his children, from the master to his pupils, from certain 
great lights in the world to communities and nations ? 
And who shall shed a light over all communities and 
nations, but he with whom none on earth may compare ? 
It is the light of teaching, the power of example ; and 
these are ordained in the very constitution of our nature 
to be the means of healing and help. How do we ever 
know any thing but by learning it ? How ever know 
what lofty virtue, what perfected goodness, is, but by 
seeing it ? We have, indeed, the primitive conception of 
it in our own hearts. But how is this ever trained up 
to high and matured excellence, but by just that means 
which is provided in the Gospel ? It is appointed in 
the strictest conformity with the system of the world. 



ON THE REMEMBRANCE OF CHRIST. 



281 



The Gospel pJan is no mysterious nor arbitrary arrange- 
ment ; it stands upon a perfectly rational basis. 

But this question which I am answering has its origin, 
nevertheless, in something that is worthy of notice. 
There has been much that was mechanical, much that 
was forced and unnatural, much of the mere gushing out 
of an unspiritual sympathy, much of irrational and un- 
improving excitement, in the commemoration of Christ. 
Nothing in the Church seems to have so failed of being 
simple and rational as the love of Christ. The greatest 
sentiments are liable to the greatest perversion. They 
take the strongest hold of our nature, and through error 
they most distort it. All this we must learn to correct. 
That simple and touching scene, presented in the Gos- 
pel, — Jesus sitting with his disciples at that evening 
repast, himself knowing that it was the last that he should 
ever partake with them, and saying, u Do this in remem- 
brance of me," — seems to rebuke the extravagance and 
superstition of his followers in later times. In this sim- 
plicity of thought and feeling, in this simple communing 
with him, we may learn what is the proper remembrance 
of him. 

It is a remembrance of him in his sorrow, his ago- 
ny, his patience, his forgiveness, his love ; and of all 
these as blended one with another. It is a remembrance 
of him in his agony. I do not exclude from my thoughts 
that awful and torturing pain. I do not wrap it up in 
Divinity, and forget that it was human. I do not know, 
indeed, altogether what was the constitution of his mind 
and being, but I know that he was clothed with this 
sensitive and suffering veil of flesh, and that his pain, 
his agony, was human. And what an agony ! No such 
torture was ever devised by man as that of crucifixion. 
24* 



282 



ON THE REMEMBRANCE OF CHRIST. 



Pain, when it attacks some vital part, or wraps in a sheet 
of flame the whole body, soon benumbs the sensibility 
and extinguishes life. But nails driven through the 
hands and feet, the cross upreared, and the body sus- 
tained by those torn and lacerated fibres, — I can think 
of nothing beside so dreadful ! Martyrdom by fire, 
by sword, by wild beasts, — nothing is so dreadful! 
And One there was, — it is long ages since, and yet it 
is kept fresh in the heart of the world, — One there 
was, when the mid-day sun was pouring its beams upon 
the hills of Judea and upon the towers of Jerusalem, 
who hung upon that cross, from the sixth hour until 
the ninth hour ; and then the agony of his beart burst 
out in that cry, — u My God ! my God ! why hast thou 
forsaken me ? " O, how natural, how human, was that 
cry ! How, when the awful hours come of pain and 
loneliness and desertion and death, does the shadow 
seem to rise and spread itself before the throne of God ! 
How natural is it for us then to feel as if God had for- 
saken us ! How natural to feel, when earth deserts us, 
when all human sympathies and affections desert us, as 
if heaven deserted us too ! And yet some there were 
who would have ministered to his relief; and one of 
them ran and took a sponge and filled it with vinegar 
(a kind of wine), and put it on a reed and gave him to 
drink. But it was in vain ; and Jesus, when he had 
cried again with a loud voice, said, " It is finished ! " 
"and he bowed his head and yielded up the ghost." 
M And behold the veil of the temple was rent in 
twain, and the earth did quake and the rocks rent, and 
the graves were opened." 

I have no design to draw a picture of this scene of 
suffering, but I think we should know and consider, and 



ON THE REMEMBRANCE OF CHRIST. 283 



especially this day, what it was ; that we should not 
wrap it in mystery, but see it as real, human suffer- 
ing ; as reviled, deserted, bitter, awful agony. It was 
this which Jesus foresaw in the garden of Gethsemane ; 
and in proportion, doubtless, to the gentleness and ten- 
derness of his nature did he shrink from brutal outrage 
and agonizing pain. 

But what is it that has made this pain a hallowed thing 
through all the world ? It was the spirit and intent 
with which it was endured. The consideration is famil- 
iar to you, but let us dwell upon it as the fit and humble 
offering of our remembrance this day. Yes, it is all 
familiar to you. O, were it portrayed to us now for 
the first time, with what wonder and veneration should 
we not gaze upon it, and how many of us would there 
not be who would go to our homes in wrapt meditation, 
saying, " This shall be the burden of my memory, the 
model of my conduct, and the swaying power over my 
soul, in all the weary walk through the changes and trials 
and sorrows of this life ! I, too, am a sufferer ; and, 
alas ! — bitterest of all, — there is sin in my sufferings. 
In daily thought and prayer, I will draw nigh to this won- 
drous cross, for healing and help." So let us say now! 

Jesus shrank from cruelty and wrong and pain. But 
how perfect was his submission. He comes to the 
garden of Gethsemane. He had been wont to resort 
to that lonely spot in quiet and peaceful hours ; but 
now is it overshadowed with gloom and danger. " And 
he began to be sorrowful and very heavy. And he 
said, My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death. 
And he went apart, and fell upon his face, and prayed, 
saying, O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup 
pass from me ! nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou 



284 ON THE REMEMBRANCE OF CHRIST. 



wilt. And he went away the second time, and prayed, 
saying, O my Father, if this cup may not pass away 
from me except I drink it, thy will be done ! And 
he went away again the third time, and prayed, saying 
the same words." And now his soul is strengthened ; 
and the betrayer approaches, with an armed band. 
What patience and sweetness in his address to him ! 
u Friend, wherefore comest thou ? " The traitorous 
kiss is given. And he says, " Judas, betrayest thou 
me with a kiss ? " One of his disciples, Peter, draws 
a sword to defend him. He says, tc Put up thy sword ; 
the cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not 
drink it ? " He is taken and borne to the seat of judg- 
ment. What calmness and grandeur there, both in his 
silence and in his speech ! He is silent, because he 
knows that it is in vain to speak before that hostile and 
prejudiced Sanhedrim, or that false and wavering Ro- 
man governor. But when adjured to speak, he an- 
nounces his high commission. And then, amidst mut- 
tered rage, and rent garments, and blows and spitting 
and reviling, as if his cup were not yet full, lo ! Pe- 
ter, the faltering, unhappy disciple, is heard amidst the 
throng, denying, once, and again, and again, that he knew 
him. cc And the Lord turned and looked on Peter." 
What sorrow and pity do we not see in that look ! It 
was enough ; and the poor, boasting, fallen disciple 
went out and wept bitterly. O, better were those 
tears, stricken and sorrowing Peter, than the gloom 
and horror of Judas, who went and hanged himself in 
utter despair of God's mercy ! Thou shalt return to 
the dear Master whose look penetrated thy soul ; thou 
shalt be a brave and noble Apostle of his cross many 
days ; thou shalt die in imitation of him ; and yet, not 



ON THE REMEMBRANCE OF CHRIST. 285 



deeming that thou art worthy to die even on the cross, 
with thy head lifted to heaven, thou shalt demand that 
thy head be pointed downward in shame and agony to 
the ground. 

The judgment scene is past ; and they lead him, 
amidst mocking homage and blows and revilings, to be 
nailed to the accursed tree. Yet did not that dread 
agony absorb him ; yet did not the infinite tenderness 
of his nature forsake him ; but seeing his mother and 
the disciple whom he loved standing there, he pronoun- 
ces those simple and touching words, — "Behold thy 
mother ! behold thy son ! " Yet again from out of the 
infinite treasuries of his love and pity flows, with his 
flowing blood, the prayer for his murderers, — " Father, 
forgive them, for they know not what they do." Nay, 
and those hands which were nailed to the cross did he 
stretch forth to a world's sin and misery. And for his 
love has there been such return of love to him, as was 
never to any other being on earth. His memory is 
spread through the ages as no other memory ever was. 
Memory, do I say ? Nay, it is the living, dying Christ, 
whom we embrace in our hearts, saying, " Be thy death 
our life ! be thy cross our refuge ! be thy patience our 
example, thy suffering our saving, and thy victory our 
redemption ! " 

Such, then, is our remembrance of Christ, as what 
he was, and did, and endured ; as the incarnation of 
suffering love, patience, and forgiveness ; as the revela- 
tion and surety and seal of God's pity and pardon. 

And now again I ask, what is the remembrance of him 
w T hich it is meet for us to entertain ? And again I an- 
swer, our remembrance of him must needs be in sorrow 
and contrition. If happy and sinless worlds were to 



286 ON THE REMEMBRANCE OF CHRIST. 

commemorate him, it might be a different thing ; but 
ours is not a sinless world, nor is it happy. No, not sin- 
less, and therefore not happy. Almost ever, our con- 
science, if it be not dead, is pained and wounded and 
ill at ease. Strike off all the grosser sins of sense and 
passion and mutual wrong ; say that we have blighted 
no one's innocence, crushed no one's interest, and bowed 
our own soul to no base deed ; yet, alas ! how much is 
left to afflict us ! Coldness of heart to the wants and 
sorrows of humanity ; not absolute, — I trust not, — 
but, alas ! too great ; dark and mournful ingratitude to 
the infinite Benefactor ; fear of man, bondage to the 
world that will not let us be free ; selfishness that coils 
itself about our heart, with its cold and serpent fold, 
and envy that shoots through it as with serpent fang ; 
anger that flashes out like scathing lightning upon our 
nature, and leaves its " scar, its frightful scar," upon 
our soul ; perverse imaginations of evil that steal again 
and again into the mind, though they never come out 
into open act ; some dark and heavy weight upon us, — 
we hardly know what, — that ever drags us down from 
the high and heavenly path in which we might walk ; 
and our life itself, not the lofty and sacred course 
we dream of, but a poor, faltering, erring life to its 
very close ; — all this casts a shadow upon our lot, 
and makes of our existence here a shaded picture. O, 
there is such a difference between what we are and 
what we might be, between the angels we might be 
and the grovelling creatures we are, that to think of 
it is a perpetual affliction ! It cannot be hard for such 
a nature, itself sorrowing, to commune with sorrow ; and 
above all, with the pitying sorrow that was endured for 
its redemption. 



ON THE REMEMBRANCE OF CHRIST. 287 



I acknowledge the great and blessed gifts of God to 
me. I cannot bear that this life should be represented 
as a worthless life, or this world as a mean abode. 
When I look upon the glory of the heavens and the 
earth, when I behold God's goodness enthroned amidst 
the brightness of day, I feel as if my being were made to 
float upon a sea of light in a trance of joy. Earth, too, 
brings around me ten thousand things gladdening and 
good, fair and lovely. I am oppressed, at times, with 
the beauty and charm of society. The affections that 
weave this wonderful vesture of social life, in colors 
brighter than golden dyes, reveal to me a new sense of 
what God's love is to this nature, — offspring of his love. 
But still, — still there are saddening shades upon all this 
brightness ; there are dark threads interwoven with this 
splendid vesture of life. Still the everlasting cry breaks 
out from the heart of the world, for some one to pity, 
for some one to save. And none can save but God. 
And how could we know his mercifulness but by its 
manifestation ? and what manifestation is there like that 
which appears in Christ, — in Christ crucified, the image 
and pledge of God's pity ? No mystery is all this, but 
simple truth. The sorrows that once breathed out a sa- 
cred life on Calvary are echoed from all ages ; and in the 
spirit and meaning of those sorrows alone can the sorrow- 
ing ages find relief. Hast thou sorrow, whoever thou art ? 
Believe thou in Christ, be thou like Christ ; believe in 
God's forgiving love, sealed in his blood, won by his sac- 
rifice, and breathe in thy soul the spirit of that sacrifice ; 
and thou shalt be saved ; the balm of infinite compas- 
sion, the stream of boundless joy, shall flow into thy soul. 
Still, I say, it is no mystery. God's love for us, — our 
salvation, in other words, — won by that sacrifice, is no 



288 



ON THE REMEMBRANCE OF CHRIST. 



mystery. Is it not the generous incentive, the glorious 
instrumentality, held out to all the world by that God 
who lovelh the righteous ? Does not the patriot's death 
win from God's providence the salvation of his country ? 
Do not the philanthropist's toil and sorrow and sacri- 
fice win from God's approving love the rescue of the 
miserable ? Does not the martyr's blood win the tri- 
umph of the righteous cause ? Is it not the seed of the 
Church ? And that great sacrifice on Calvary, the holi- 
est and dearest ever offered in the world, shall it not 
save the world ? 

And I say again, does not the world need that salva- 
tion ? Even to-day, the burdened and bleeding heart 
of society, in its poverty and prostration and its unut- 
tered and unutterable sorrow, — its stroke, like Job's, 
heavier than its groaning, — must it not look to the 
cross of Christ for relief? The lacerated wounds of 
private affection, — in how many homes wasting and 
wearing away the springs of life, — must they not, dumb 
mouths, pray to the Crucified ? — must they not open 
their anguish to the breath of God's pity ? The deep 
pains of human sensibility, which have no cause but 
man's infinite nature, which stretch their sensitive fibres 
through all man's life, from youth to age, which no one 
has ever described, into which no preaching, perhaps, 
ever looked, nor ever can look, — must they not lift 
their sighing voice to him whose whole being was pene- 
trated by tender sympathy, whose life was poured out 
in one all-healing sacrifice of pity, — God's pity for the 
miserable ? 

My brethren, we are assembled for a week-day ser- 
vice, though it be a solemn commemoration ; and you 
did not expect, perhaps, that the great and pressing call 



ON THE REMEMBRANCE OF CHRIST. 289 

of the highest religion would come so near to you. But 
how, and where, and when, can it be avoided ? If I 
looked upon life as the coldest observer, — if I but saw 
what it is, and then knew what the Gospel, what the 
cross of Christ, is, — I should say, there is the relief. If 
I had critically read all the philosophers and sages in the 
world, and then as coldly read the words of Christ, I 
should say, here is help ; nowhere but here. But we 
are not cold observers of life ; we are not cold specta- 
tors before the cross. We do not stand by it as the 
hardened executioners, but, I trust, as the loving disci- 
ples. Let, then, that cross speak to us. Let it set its 
seal upon us, that we may bear it hence with us. It is 
not strange for us to commune with death ; for we are 
all dying creatures, and our friends are dying — or 
dead ! It is not strange for us to commune with sor- 
row ; for we are all oftentimes sorrowing. Let it not 
be strange for us to commune with the spirit of Jesus in 
his sufferings, and with the mercy of God in his sacri- 
fice ; for that spirit is our life, and that mercy is our 
hope. 



25 



SERMON XXIV. 



BY SAMUEL OSGOOD. 



HOURS WITH THE COMFORTER. 

AND BE NOT DRUNK WITH WINE, WHEREIN IS EXCESS ; BUT BE FILLED 
WITH THE SPIRIT ; SPEAKING TO YOURSELVES IN PSALMS AND 
HYMNS AND SPIRITUAL SONGS, SINGING AND MAKING MELODY IN 
YOUR HEART TO THE LORD ; GIVING THANKS ALWAYS FOR ALL 
THINGS UNTO GOD AND THE FATHER IN THE NAME OF OUR LORD 

jesus christ. — Ephesians v. 18-20. 

Our God has not created us for a life of dull, plod- 
ding routine. He has not commanded us to be content 
to drag a heavy load of care along the same dusty road. 
By our very nature we crave excitement and must have 
recreation. We must in some manner be lifted out of 
the monotony of toil, and enjoy what seems to us a 
higher state of life. This craving exists in all men, and 
leads many sadly astray. It shows itself in the sensual 
man, whether the rude boor or the fastidious voluptuary, 
who resort to the intoxicating cup that they may forget 
toil or drown anxiety, whilst they revel in fond visions 
that have enough of the show of nobleness and enjoy- 
ment to beguile, in order the more to imbrute, the soul. 

The world not only offers this form of temptation, 
under the plea of meeting an essential human want, but 



HOURS WITH THE COMFORTER. 



291 



presents a thousand inebriating influences, all of which 
may be embraced in the prohibition, — "Be not drunk 
with wine, wherein is excess." Some of the means of 
exhilaration which worldly circles hold out appeal so 
insidiously to real wants of our nature, that a thoughtful 
man, whilst he condemns their excesses, will learn from 
them the need of remembering how plainly God has 
moved us to yearn for relief from drudging care, and of 
providing some proper means of refreshing and exalting 
our hearrs amid the turmoil of daily labor. 

The Apostle seems distinctly to recognize this princi- 
ple ; and whilst he warns the Ephesian church against 
all ungodly dissipation, points out the highest source of 
mental refreshment, — "Be ye filled with the spirit." 
For where the spirit of the Lord is, there is not only 
liberty, but also peace and joy. Be this our theme, — 
" The joy of the soul when refreshed by the spirit of 
God." The subject carries us back to the time when 
the disciples of our Lord first felt the meaning of his 
promise of the Comforter, — the season when they, 
almost paralyzed by the death and overwhelmed by the 
resurrection of their Master, were moved by a new influ- 
ence from above, and with them thousands were made 
to feel their communion with God and their heritage of 
heaven, and gave thanks unto the Father in the name of 
our Lord Jesus Christ. I will not try to recall the par- 
ticulars of that great birthday of the Christian Church, 
but would refer to them only to illustrate the hours of 
comfort that every soul may enjoy by the power of that 
same Holy Spirit. 

Was Luke, do you suppose, romancing when he 
wrote his description of that happy time ? Was Paul 
jesting when he addressed that counsel to a church that 



292 



HOURS WITH THE COMFORTER. 



he himself had established ? Men are not ready to 
suffer and die for romantic stories or playful jests. If 
there be any truth in the Bible, it is true that, through the 
Gospel, the spirit of God is brought to act upon the soul 
of the believer, and the soul of the believer is brought 
into a nearer communion with heaven. The prisoner 
at Rome, and the Evangelist who was the sharer of his 
captivity, knew very well what they were saying, and 
were not, either in mind or heart, the men to be the dis- 
pensers of rhetorical deceits or the dupes of vain super- 
stitions. They knew what they were about ; and the best 
wisdom and experience of the ages since have justified 
their words. The hours of peace that the faithful have 
ever enjoyed well prove that the spirit of God still 
works on the soul, and still confirms the sacred record. 

How may we win the blessing, — be filled with the 
spirit, and have a joy exalted and not of this world ? 
Shall we act upon the principle of worldly dissipation, 
by running away from our duties, and shutting our eyes to 
stern realities ? Shall we seek a blind, delirious rapture, 
like that of the wild revel or the midnight dance ? Not 
such the apostolic doctrine nor practice. The Christian 
joy is sober and serene even in its heavenly fulness and 
holy rapture. Away with every thing that dazzles the 
senses and dizzies the mind. Be not drunk with wine, 
nor with any excitement wherein is excess, if you would 
know the peace of God and be filled with the spirit. 

It is not remarkable what intellectual calmness pre- 
vailed, on that birthday of the Christian Church, among 
those who felt the new life, and were visited with tongues 
as of fire. Some mockers, indeed, — for mockers there 
always are, — said, " These men are full of new wine," 
or, " Surely they must be drunk, to appear so strange- 



HOURS WITH THE COMFORTER. 



293 



ly ! " But they who thus confounded deep emotion 
and holy joy with inebriate madness were rebuked at 
once by the Apostle who stood, as ever, at the head of 
the twelve, — not Pope, but foremost among brethren, 
— and delivered a clear and connected argument upon 
the foundation of the Christian faith and hope, exhibited 
Christ as the crucified and risen Saviour, sent to fulfil 
the law and prophets, heal the diseases of the mind, give 
new life to man, and pour the spirit of God upon all 
craving souls. 

If we would be filled with the spirit, we should seek a 
like sober conviction. We must have a faith founded 
upon a knowledge of the truth. Our trust must be in 
God, — not in the unknown, but the revealed, God, — 
revealed not merely in the whispers of conscience and 
the voices of nature, but also in Jesus Christ his Son,, 
our Saviour, who came to show us the Father and bring 
to us the Paraclete, the Comforter, the Spirit of Truth. 
Believing this, we rest upon the foundation of prophets 
and apostles, Jesus Christ himself being the chiefcorner- 
stone. Believing this, and rightly apprehending the rela- 
tion of God, through the Gospel, to the sins, needs, and 
aspirations of our souls, we lay hold of the noblest of re- 
alities, and are ready for a joy exalted and not of this 
world, — a joy springing from no blind inebriating, but 
from the witness of the spirit. It was only when the rev- 
elation through Christ was completed by his life, death, 
resurrection, and ascension, and the chain of connection 
between man and God, earth and heaven, was thus re- 
stored, that the way of mediation fully appeared, the be- 
lievers saw the Gospel in its fulness, and belief became 
faith, and faith hope, and hope love, and love joy. 

Sober truth, then, as to the relation between God and 
25 * 



294 



HOURS WITH THE COMFORTER. 



ourselves, established by the Gospel, must be regarded 
as an essential condition of Christian joy in the spirit, 
or of true hours with the Comforter. u Give me a 
great truth," said Herder, on his death-bed, " to re- 
fresh me now that I faint." That truth he found in his 
own soul. What truth;, to make us strong whether for 
life or death, like the crowning truth that God was in 
Christ, and, through faith, ever offers consolation and 
communion ! 

But, obviously, it will not do to trust in any merely 
speculative study of God's works and word for ac- 
ceptance and peace. One great question is, What is the 
truth as it is in Jesus, — how do God and eternity 
appear in his Gospel ? And another question, equally 
important, is, What is that truth to us, or how do we 
personally appear in our relation to God and the eternal 
world ? The latter is the practical question to be set- 
tled, before we can know any thing of religious peace. 
That God in Christ calls us to himself and heaven is 
one thing, and it depends not upon aught that we do. 
Have we obeyed the call ? this is quite another thing, 
and it depends entirely upon ourselves. There is 
balm in Gilead, a physician there ; this is one thought. 
Have we sought the balm and gone to the physician ? 
this is quite another thought. There is healing virtue 
in Siloa's brook is one consideration. Have we carried 
our urns thither, and with joy sought to draw water 
from the wells of salvation ? this is another considera- 
tion. That the Father is ready with open arms to re- 
ceive the prodigal, nay, with open arms will come forth 
to meet him ; this is one truth. But it is also true 
that the prodigal pines in poverty and exile, until he 
will arise and go unto his father. The soul can 



HOURS WITH THE COMFORTER. 



295 



never know the joy of the spirit, — can never have its 
hours with the Comforter, — until the practical step is 
taken, and in repentance and filial faith turns towards 
God revealed in Christ. Then the way of communion 
is complete. Man meets God, earth borders upon 
heaven. Then the river, the streams whereof make 
glad the city of our God, reaches to us, and its blessed 
waters do not disdain to flow into our dry and thirsty 
lands, moistening the whole soil, causing blade and flow- 
er and fruit to appear, and filling with a heavenly fulness 
those empty wells which, though formed of earth, may 
yet hold the sweet affluence of the skies. It was not 
a vision of fancy, or of some merely future paradise, 
which the divine St. John saw, when he spoke of the 
New Jerusalem: — " He showed me a pure river of 
water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the 
throne of God and the Lamb." 

What the entire nature of spiritual influence is we 
do not profess to know, although we know as much of 
this as of any work of God. We do not feel authorized 
to speak of the Holy Spirit as in any just sense a dis- 
tinct person in the Godhead ; for the neuter gender is 
generally used, and the influence is generally exhibited 
in the Scriptures as from God, and as sustaining the 
same relation to him that the spirit of man sustains to 
man, and no more a person other than the Father than 
the spirit of any man is a person other than the man him- 
self. But we aim not at controversy. Our doctrine 
of the spirit is such as to bring us into communion with 
the great body of Christian believers, whilst it saves 
us alike from being identified with the dogmatism of 
creed-makers or the laxities of rationalism. We would 
urge the Gospel idea of divine influence, so as to be 



296 



HOURS WITH THE COMFORTER. 



saved alike from the superstition that regards the spirit 
as a spectral ghost, and the skepticism that confounds 
it with the mutable feelings of man. From this latter 
error, so prevalent in some quarters, we pray to be pre- 
served. We hope ever to be able to repeat that article 
of every truly Catholic creed, — " I believe in the Holy 
Spirit," — the spirit of God, that is to be known by 
the faithful soul, but no more to be confounded with 
the soul than the vital air which insures to us breath 
is to be regarded as having its being only in our fee- 
ble breath, as if its life-giving tide must perish if we 
cease to inhale of its fulness. The vital atmosphere 
around us is but a faint emblem of that universal spirit 
in which we live and move and have our being, and 
which was before man existed, and shall be when earth 
exists no more. 

God is incomprehensible. So is his spirit. Yet 
what baffles the speculative understanding may present 
few practical difficulties to a docile heart. The reve- 
lation of God through Christ and in the soul of man is in 
analogy with his revelation through nature. The God 
of nature is above us in sublime mystery ; yet he that 
will study the laws of the natural kingdoms, and follow 
their direction, shall win a blessing. Even now as w T e 
write, over the teeming earth myriads of gardens and 
fields are showing how God will bless those who seek 
outward blessings according to the appointed order, and 
how man may be filled with good, — w 7 hat was once a 
wilderness now blooming with the promise of fruit, 
flower, and grain. Be ye filled with the spirit. To 
win this fulness we are to follow the appointed way. 
Look to God, as he appears in his works and word, with 
obedient, humble, trusting hearts, and who will say that 



HOURS WITH THE COMFORTER. 



297 



the Father of our spirits is not, — nay, is not near us, 
with us, and ready to fill us with uncreated good ? 

May we not appeal to our own consciences for testi- 
mony ? Frail, feeble, sinful as we are, who of us is so 
lost to heavenly things as to have enjoyed no refreshing 
seasons when God has been near to us and breathed a 
better life into our souls. With too many of us, alas ! 
these times have been very transient, and the good seed 
has been choked by thorns, or eaten up by worldly cares, 
or come to naught for want of depth of soil. We have 
sometimes had intimations of God's presence in the fair 
scenes of nature, when with the hopeful verdure of 
spring, or the rich harvests of autumn, with sweet land- 
scapes, or gorgeous skies, majestic seas, sublime moun- 
tains, the Divine Being has seemed to approach us, and 
his voice from the holy temple has thrilled through our 
hearts. But too often the feeling has gone with the 
sight, the voice passed with the occasion, and, like the 
base herd feeding in orchards, we partake of the bounty 
around us without looking up in gratitude to its Source. 

" For swinish Gluttony- 
Ne'er looks to heaven, amidst his'gorgeous feast, 
But, with besotted, base ingratitude, 
Crams, and blasphemes his feeder." 

But it is not so bad with us always, in our views of 
creation, nor can many, if any of us, deny that we have 
had convictions of the Divine love deeper than nature 
teaches. Have we not had yet nearer visitations of 
God, and owned his glory in Christ as the only begotten 
of the Father, full of grace and truth ? We have been 
near enough the Gospel mediation to feel some of its 
power, — enough of it, surely, to disturb our torpor, and 



298 



HOURS WITH THE COMFORTER. 



give us some pulses of the spiritual life. Why did we 
permit the influence to be so fleeting ? We have been 
disappointed, — who that has hoped has not been dis- 
appointed ? — and have turned to one who will not fail 
us, if we put our trust in him. We have been tempted, 
and have yielded, — who has not been tempted, and in 
some point yielded ? — and have sought, not without 
some return, a power that can keep us from falling. 
We have been startled, — startled by the decay of all 
human things, — as the death of a friend has broken in 
upon our wordly routine, given us a new sense of mor- 
tality, and shown us what a world of graves this earth is, 
and how vain is all its beauty and promise without the 
immortal hope. We have seen the fruits of pure relig- 
ion, — sometimes in a life of blessed charity, sometimes 
in a death of triumphant faith, — and then a holy spirit has 
stirred us, and God and heaven have been near. Hours 
of retired meditation, of sacred reading, of hallowed 
conversation, of prolonged public worship, have been 
blessed with a peculiar power. In some of these hours 
with the Comforter, we have been ready to exalt medi- 
tation into jubilee, and break forth into joyful praises of 
the God who commanded the light to shine out of dark- 
ness, and hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of 
the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. O, we 
have had such hours ! Why will they not stay, and not 
only stay, but brighten in beauty and deepen in joy ? 
Why may we not cry out with the Apostle, — " We all, 
with open face beholding, as in a glass, the glory of the 
Lord, are changed into the same image, from glory to 
glory, even as by the spirit of the Lord " ? 

Why not, — except because we neglect the means 
of true life, and slight the path of fidelity and peace to 



HOURS WITH THE COMFORTER. 



299 



which the Gospel calls ns ? The ecstasy of spiritual 
joy we may not, indeed, expect to have always. On the 
Mount of Transfiguration, or in the day of Pentecost, 
the disciple cannot always live ; but surely its meaning 
should never be forgotten nor its spirit lost. It need 
not be amid the cares of the world ; we cannot expect to 
live always as in the brightness of our Heavenly Father's 
countenance. But if we only remember his holy law 
amid worldly cares and trials, his face will have a more 
cheering smile when we seek his mercy-seat again. 
The subject may- not always enjoy the intimate presence 
of his sovereign ; but only let him show allegiance to the 
royal law, and all life becomes service, and absence in 
form is presence in feeling. So when we are inclined 
to lament that our frame of mind is cold and unspiritual, 
and w 7 e do not enjoy the religious comfort that we have 
sometimes known, let there be no repining, no murmur- 
ing at God, no quarrelling with ourselves or the world ; 
but let us only strive to do right in God's name and for 
Christ's love, and we shall find the humblest obedience 
is the best recovery, and the spiritual pulse is quickened 
as the work of life is faithfully done. The influence 
of the favored hours is thus exhibited, cherished, and 
strengthened by plain duty, and works of fidelity some- 
times kindle into prayers of faith and jubilees of praise. 
We may say, — "True it is, I have known a holier 
mood and a happier frame of feeling. Now, T am dull, 
desponding. But something must be pardoned to our 
nature. The good spirit moves me not now as some- 
times. But what of that ? So was it of old with 
holier men. Now is the time for a peculiar fidelity. 
Now is the time to refresh the root of the tree whose 
bloom is so fair and fruit so desirable. This cup in the 



300 



HOURS WITH THE COMFORTER. 



name of a disciple I can give ; this work of strife I can 
check ; that word of charity I can speak ; this fault I 
can control, and that grace I can cherish. Now is the 
time for sober obedience ; and if I am faithful now, my 
Lord will have for me yet a new blessing, when next 
I am in his nearer presence and see his face." 

In this spirit we learn the sacredness of persevering 
fidelity, and the connection of righteousness with peace 
and joy. We shall thus be able to recognize the con- 
nection between practical obedience and heavenly com- 
munion. The hour of devotion will be the happier for 
the work of duty. The practical and the spiritual will 
agree in one. Life will wear a diviner charm without 
losing its sedate virtue. It will not be hard to under- 
stand the words of the Apostle, ■ — " Be not drunk 
with wine, wherein is excess, but be filled with the 
spirit, speaking to yourselves in psalms and hymns and 
spiritual songs, singing and making melody in your heart 
to the Lord, giving thanks always for all things unto 
God and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus 
Christ." 

Thus the whole compass of devotion is brought be- 
fore us by the text, — devotion in private and public, by 
psalm and hymn, by prayer and thanksgiving. Never, 
without earnest devotional habits, can we hope for re- 
ligious peace. The same exercises that express what- 
ever of spiritual life may be in us add to that life, 
even as the juices that rise in the tree at once indicate 
its vitality and insure its growth. Why are we so 
reluctant to follow whither the spirit calls ? Why so 
languid in prayer ? Why so slow to seek in the home 
and at the altar the heavenly companionship offered 
us ? O for more of God, more of his holy breath, 



HOURS WITH THE COMFORTER. 301 

giving life to our souls in hours of retirement, fervor 
to our sanctuaries of worship, joy to the table of com- 
munion, granting us a living witness that the spirit of 
truth is the same in all ages, and we, too, may know 
the love of God ! 



26 



SERMON XXV. 



BY ALONZO HILL. 



THE PRIMITIVE SUPPER * 

THESE ALL CONTINUED WITH ONE ACCORD IN PRAYER AND SUPPLI- 
CATION, WITH THE WOMEN, AND MARY THE MOTHER OF JESUS, 
AND WITH HIS BRETHREN. Acts i. 14. 

Never before since the world began was there an 
assembly like this of the disciples in the upper chamber 
in Jerusalem. The great drama in which they had taken 
so prominent a part was now over. Jesus, who had 
been crucified and slain, was arisen and ascended to the 
right hand of God. They had just come from the 
Mount of Olives, where, amid the beautiful and serene 
aspects of nature, they had seen him taken from the 
midst of them and majestically borne into heaven. They 
had entered Jerusalem with great joy, and were now as- 
sembled in their customary place of retirement and devo- 
tion, — the very room, it has been thought, where, a few 
weeks before, the Master had eaten his last supper with 
his disciples. How many solemn and touching associa- 
tions gather around this, the place of their first meeting ! 
There were the eleven, whose names are given, — each 



* Preached at the Anniversary Communion Service, May 27th, 
1847. 



THE PRIMITIVE SUPPER. 



303 



familiar face and form, — all were there save one, and 
he, — his habitation had become desolate, his bishopric 
was given to another ; he was no more to be men- 
tioned but as a beacon and a warning. They had sur- 
vived the terrible shock, the fearful and heart-rending 
events which had followed each other in quick succes- 
sion, and were now collected from their dispersion to 
engage in the most momentous work of recorded time, 
the regeneration and salvation of the world. .The 
women also were there, " last at the cross, and first at 
the tomb," — the daughters of Jerusalem, who had wept 
as the victim went by to the slaughter, and Mary, the 
mother of Jesus, who had pondered in her heart the 
sayings at his birth, and whose bosom a sword had 
pierced at his death. What deep and hallowed emotions 
must have pervaded that little assembly ! How intimate 
their communion, as with one accord they continued in 
prayer and supplication ! How sublime, too, when we 
regard them as the first of those assemblies of believers, 
gathered together from age to age, in every clime, under 
every circumstance of joy and grief, — drawn by a 
common faith, in sympathy of affection, and by devo- 
tion to the great Head of the Church. 

In what striking contrast with that little assembly is a 
meeting of disciples like the present ! They were few 
in numbers, seeking the retirement of an upper room 
that they might escape the prying eyes of enemies. We 
are many, and open wide our doors and invite all to 
enter, and have no enemies to fear but our own habits 
of sloth and selfish indulgence and deadly indifference. 
They were the first called, — the first in the mighty 
enterprise by which the world was to be regenerated. 
They went forth on paths which had never been trod- 



304 



THE PRIMITIVE SUPPER. 



den, and on seas which had never been sounded. We, 
the humblest of us, are sharers in the same great work, 
— matured by the experience of ages, and sealed by the 
blood of martyrs. And yet they were strong in their 
weakness ; for their minds needed no refreshing. The 
image of the great Master was ever present to their 
hearts. Their mutual affection needed no quickening ; 
for it had been nourished from a common source. But 
we, — how weak in our strength, — how prone to for- 
get, — how frequently and much do we need to be re- 
minded of our spiritual relationship, of our allegiance to 
the great Master of us all ! 

And is it not a happy arrangement in the business of 
the week that we should come and share together in 
this festival of love ? Since we met, we have stood in 
the midst of the monuments of Christ's power. We 
have contemplated anew the mighty spiritual agent thai 
has been brought to bear upon our destinies. We have 
seen what it accomplishes, how it brings light and beauty 
and peace, changing like the breath of spring the whole 
aspects of nature. We have taken counsel together, 
and sought to give new energy and activity to our faith. 
As of a common household, we have remembered our 
brethren abroad and our children at home. We have 
given our alms, and provided for the widow and orphan, 
and the stranger within our gates. And now, what 
remains for us but to turn aside and pause a brief hour 
before the altar of commemoration, that we may revive 
our languid affections, and pour out our hearts' gratitude 
before the Author of our spiritual blessings ? When the 
disciples came down from the mountain, they entered 
Jerusalem with great joy, and continued with one accord 
in common supplication. Having come from witness- 



THE PRIMITIVE SUPPER. 



305 



ing the miracles of love and mercy which are yet done 
in the name of Jesus, let the hour be hallowed by holy 
thought and humble prayer and a spiritual communion. 

And what object at such a moment should occupy 
the attention and engross the affections, but the Christ, 
the Author and Finisher of our faith, the personal bene- 
factor and friend of the believer ? For this end was he 
born, that by his personal mediation he might bring us 
unto the Father. Why else come not our spiritual 
blessings like the gifts of nature around us, in spring 
showers and summer breezes ? Why, but that receiving 
them through the ministry of the Redeemer, our minds 
might the more clearly perceive and our hearts be the 
more deeply touched by the greatness of the blessing ? 
And can we, brethren and friends, bring before us the 
image of that Being as a great and blessed reality, can 
we in the still hour of our meditations contemplate him 
as the personal benefactor, the friend of our souls, with- 
out perceiving in his truth a solemnity, a winning and 
subduing power, as when it was first heard by the rapt 
multitudes on . the hills of Galilee, — without feeling 
towards him a profound tenderness which we feel towards 
no other ? 

Think what he was and did, — a being of such gen- 
tleness and benignity, such purity and sanctity, that the 
like was never seen or ever dreamed of. Though all we 
know of him is contained in a few brief pages, though 
there is no description of his person, no hint by which 
we may draw a picture to the mind, except, perhaps, 
when the Jews said to him, u Thou art not yet fifty 
years old " (from which we may infer that, although 
not yet reaching the maturity of manhood, through his 
excessive labors there was a look of age beyond his 
26 * 



306 



THE PRIMITIVE SUPPER. 



years, — that his delicate frame was already sinking be- 
neath the energies of a divine spirit) ; yet what an im- 
pression of his spiritual mightiness has he left upon the 
face of the world ! Walking in light and with divinest 
beneficence, bearing with him the power of God over 
the agitated elements, yet pressing to his bosom the 
humblest and frailest of his creatures, he hallowed each 
spot of earth on which he moved. For through him 
Palestine has become a holy land to all nations. A 
sanctity invests her barren hills, the waves of her lone- 
ly lakes, the soil of her ruined cities. His serene 
countenance once looked on them ; his hand waved 
in blessings over them ; he once with weary step trod 
them ; — and they are sacred to the hearts of all people. 
For what a character has he left to gaze on and rever- 
ence and love. As a proof of its surpassing dignity 
and glory, let us record, that while men, pagan and infi- 
del, have made war upon the pages of his Gospel and 
the institutions of his religion, and persecuted and hunted 
down its professors, they have left that character un- 
touched. It filled them with a divine emotion. It in- 
spired them with an awe too profound to be resisted, as 
did the holy temple in Jerusalem when the Roman 
armies were gathered around as eagles for their prey. 
They beheld it rising in magnificence, glittering with 
its marble columns and pinnacles of gold in the morning 
sun ; and while they carried havoc and ruin through the 
streets, sparing neither old nor young, they had no 
heart to touch a thing so wondrous beautiful. They 
would have spared that. 

And what is the image which rises before the imagina- 
tion as we contemplate the Saviour ? It is chiefly of the 
great Sufferer. And this it is that has given so much 



THE PRIMITIVE SUPPER. 



307 



interest to the piece of marble or ivory in which gen- 
ius and devotion have embodied the conception of it. 
There is the form hanging on the cross, composed and 
relaxed, — the witness of the great strife that had been 
passed, — the agony now over. There is that counte- 
nance, with its unsounded depths of gentleness and love 
and majesty ; and who can gaze upon it, — so expressive 
of the deep peace of that soul which breathed accents of 
forgiveness and tenderness, — who can contemplate the 
great Sufferer in the hour of his triumph, who can ponder 
his life and death, — such a life and such a death! — 
and not feel that he must needs turn away and weep ? 
Where are our hearts, if they are not melted and won ? 
If there be such things as reverence, gratitude, and af- 
fection, if the fountains of good feelings are not dried, 
if the last drop of sympathy be not wrung from us, we 
cannot fail to be drawn towards him by cords of tender 
and reverential emotion. 

It is not enough, then, that we contemplate the in- 
stitutions and the wonder-working power of Christianity. 
It is good for us, it is for our soul's welfare, to commune 
with the great Author himself. He is the source of our 
best inspirations, the fountain whence life and nourish- 
ment must be drawn. Travellers tell us of a tree that 
grows full and vigorous on the desert wastes of Africa. 
No green thing is near, all is barren and parched around ; 
and yet this tree every year grows in beauty and 
strength, every spring puts forth its tender leaves, and 
every autumn is laden with its fruit. " And how is 
this ? " inquired the traveller of an aged inhabitant of the 
desert. " The soil is barren and parched, I see no water 
near, and yet the tree stands green and fair under 
scorching suns and amid sandy wastes." " The expla- 



308 



THE PRIMITIVE SUPPER. 



nation is easy," was the reply. "It is of a kind whose 
roots extend far, and the delicate fibres have stretched 
forth in silence and beneath the ground until they have 
reached the river's banks. There they find perpetual 
and never-failing nourishment. And thus the tree stands 
in the pride of its beauty and strength ; and suns pour 
upon it and winds strive against it in vain." So, my 
brethren, let us draw from the hidden fountains of living 
waters ; let us be united to Christ as the branches to the 
vine ; and our better affections shall not languish, we 
shall not be cast aside as withered and dried. 

But this is not only an hour for tender and grate- 
ful memories ; it is an hour also for renewed self-con- 
secration to Christ and his truth, to the cause of God 
and man. Can we approach this table and call up the 
image of him in whose name it is spread, and not feel 
that the spirit of self-sacrificing love is the genuine spir- 
it of his religion ? When the Apostles stood together 
in that upper chamber in Jerusalem, what was their 
first work ? They did not dwell on their privileges ; 
they did not pause on the heart-inspiring vision which 
they had seen on the mount ; but forthwith girded them- 
selves for the great duties that were before them. They 
filled without delay their broken ranks ; and they were 
already gone forth on their mission, eastward and west- 
ward, some with toilsome feet climbing distant moun- 
tains, and crossing strange seas, — some fleeing from city 
unto the wilderness, — some pining in prisons, — some 
wetting a foreign soil with their blood. They were with 
the Master when he passed on to die, and witnesses of 
his serenity and peace ; the}^ saw him as he ascended, and 
gazed upon his countenance of unutterable tenderness. 
He had revealed to them the Gospel in its ineffable 



THE PRIMITIVE SUPPER. 



309 



dignity and grandeur, and could they sit down in the 
possession and indulge in the solitary and selfish en- 
joyment ? 

So at a later period. When the disciples roused 
the jealousy of emperors and kings, they repaired to 
the solitary field at early dawn, or the catacombs at 
midnight, not merely that they might sing their hymns, 
not that they might indulge in selfish gratification, but 
that they might renew their vows of fidelity, and by spir- 
itual communion gather strength for the conflict. And 
so when they were dragged forth on the morrow before 
the tribunals of justice, and put to the trial of their 
faith, what noble proofs did they give of the strength 
of their convictions ! Men w-ere there, humble, peace- 
loving men. " Are ye Christians ? " was the inquiry 
of the stern magistrate. "Place your foot upon that 
cross, the shameful emblem of the Christian's faith, — 
trample on the accursed thing." But they would not 
do it ; they would embrace it with tears of affection, 
and welcome its lingering tortures as if it were the re- 
pose of a soft bed. Tender and delicate females were 
there, just on the verge of womanhood. " Bow at this 
shrine ; scatter a few grains of incense before this altar 
of Jupiter." A single inclination of the head, a single 
motion of the hand, might do it. " Not for worlds," 
was the reply; " our religion forbids it." Meekly and 
cheerfully they encountered the flames that consumed 
their bodies, and mounted the fiery chariot that was to 
bear them upward. And is not this to be regarded as 
an altar of refuge, a sanctuary of peace ? and are we 
not here to give pledges of undying fidelity and affec- 
tion ? 

If there w T ere here, in this assembly of believers, some 



310 



THE PRIMITIVE SUPPER, 



devoted missionary who was about to tear himself from 
a New England home, to bid adieu to his native soil, 
the familiar scenes of his childhood, and the graves of 
his fathers, and after a long voyage to disembark on an 
unhealthy coast, there to take his lot amid heathenism and 
every social discomfort ; if for Christ's and the Gos- 
pel's sake he had resolved to raise there his solitary tent, 
and encounter every species of privation, — a burning sun 
by day and unhealthy dews by night, — and to toil on in 
sickness of body and sickness of heart, and, it may be, 
sink at last into a lonely grave, — no voice of kindred 
or friends near, and no gleams of success to cheer a 
dying hour ; or if there were one present to embark on 
the morrow, to wear out his young life on the Western 
prairies as our brother has just done, — who of us would 
not urge him to lay his heart on this altar of sacrifice, 
nourish his spirit with high thoughts, and consecrate 
himself anew to the service of his Saviour and his 
God? 

But, my brethren, this is not the severest peril to 
which a Christian man may be exposed. There is an 
idolatry worse than heathen, a spirit more to be feared, 
more deadly, than the disease that burns under tropical 
suns, and descends in the night-dews and lurks amid 
gardens of beauty there. It is the spirit of society, 
politics, trade, fashion, the unmitigated spirit of selfish- 
ness in every shape and in all places. We part to-night 
and go our several ways, one to his farm and another 
to his merchandise ; some to pulpits beset with tempta- 
tions to indolence and unfaithfulness, and some to pews 
obstinately shut so as not to receive the whole counsel 
of God ; some to the market-place, where, amid the pre- 
vailing worldliness and the pursuit of unrighteous gains, 



THE PRIMITIVE SUPPER. 



311 



the best thoughts are dissipated, and the best impressions 
worn away ; some to social circles, often so frivolous 
and heartless ; some to homes where there is no do- 
mestic altar, and some to retired chambers, which never 
witnessed for a single hour a faithful self-inspection and- 
discipline. The temples of worship stand among us, 
the Gospel is preached season after season, and there 
still is the turbulence of ambition, the greediness of gain, 
and the excesses of sensual indulgence. There is the 
tempter, subtle, plausible, insinuating. There is the 
prodigal son wasting the wealth of intellect, affection, 
and opportunity, — the rich man sitting at his feasts and 
Lazarus at his gates. No, my brethren, it is not savage 
cruelty, it is not the slow-wasting pestilence, it is not 
loneliness, nor distance from friends, nor death in 
strange lands, that is most to be feared. It is the low 
worldly influence all around us, the spirit of irreligion 
in the midst of us, like some dread presence, invading 
our sanctuaries and our homes, our public and our 
private walks, and laying waste all that is loveliest and 
best there. This, this we are to fear with the whole 
energies of our souls. And in such a peril, can we 
fail, as we stand at^ this altar, once more to refresh and 
invigorate ourselves with the spirit of the Master, — 
once more to record our vows of fidelity, our deliber- 
ate purpose, whatever may come or whatever may 
threaten, to be true to ourselves, and to live for God 
and Christ and heaven ? This night and these ele- 
ments witness the resolution. Let to-morrow find us 
in the way of improvement and safety and peace. 

We go our ways. We engage in the conflict 
and encounter the peril. But, for our solace and en- 
couragement, let us remember we do not go alone. 



312 



THE PRIMITIVE SUPPER. 



God and Christ and all good men are with us. When 
the disciples descended from the mountain, they were 
but an hundred and twenty ; and though the whole 
world was arrayed against them, and peril attended all 
their steps, they ate their bread with cheerfulness and 
went to their work with good hope, upheaved the earth 
by their energy, changed the face of empires, and saved 
the family of man. We are a multitude whom no 
man can number, and tokens of sympathy everywhere 
attend us. Hands that never clasped are engaged in 
the same great work, eyes that never met are turned to- 
wards heaven for succour in the same great cause, and 
hearts are warmed and bosoms throb with kindred hopes. 
Nay, more ; can we come into this place of our solemn 
gathering, and not feel that we belong to a still larger 
communion ? We are associated with the innumerable 
company of the departed, — with those who have en- 
tered within the veil as well as with those who still 
linger without. One family there is on earth and in 
heaven, — 

M One church above, beneath, 
One army of the living God ; 

To his command we bow ; 
Part of the host have crossed the flood, 

And part are crossing now." 

Forms dear and venerable, ong since departed, rise 
up before me while I speak. I hear again voices that, 
once familiar here, touched all hearts. I see the coun- 
tenances of those we loved, intently fixed and re- 
garding with unabated solicitude the cause of God and 
man. They throng around us now in our better and 
more blissful moments. They attend us here when 
we would mount up into a higher region of faith and 



THE PRIMITIVE SUPPER. 



313 



affection, and sympathize with every smile of joy, every 
gleam of success, that falls upon our hearts. How 
sustaining, how animating, the thought ! Hour of the 
spirit's communion ! altar of the spirit's refuge ! gate of 
heaven ! What remains for us, brethren and friends, 
disciples of Jesus, but to approach this spot with 
reverential awe, to cast from us every weight of world- 
liness and besetting sin and unmanly distrust, and run 
with patience and diligence the race that is set before 
us ? Onward, then, in the path of fidelity and Christian 
duty, cheered by the presence of visible and invisible 
witnesses, animated by the encouraging example of the 
faithful. Onward until the perils are all passed, and 
your feet shall tread within the gate of the holy city, 
and the bright inheritance shall be yours. Still onward, 
until you join the august assembly in that magnificent 
temple from which they who are admitted shall go out 
no more for ever. 



27 



SERMON XXVI. 



BY WILLIAM H. FURNESS. 



A COMMUNION SERMON. 

GOD, WHO COMMANDED THE LIGHT TO SHINE OUT OF DARKNESS, 
HATH SHINED IN OUR HEARTS, TO GIVE THE LIGHT OF THE 
KNOWLEDGE OF THE GLORY OF GOD IN THE FACE OF JESUS 

christ. —2 Corinthians iv. 6. 

The friends that surrounded Jesus while on earth 
were few, and very humble, — far, far inferior to him in 
every respect. It might be supposed that there could 
be but little sympathy between him and them. Certain- 
ly they could not enter into his spirit, and appreciate 
his sorrows and his joys. Still, their attachment, hum- 
ble as it was, was his only earthly solace, and in their 
society he found the only comfort which this world had 
to give him. And the prospect of being cherished in 
their hearts, when he should no more be present to 
their sight, helped to soothe and support him when the 
darkness of his fate began to thicken around him. Thus 
it was, I conceive, in the most natural manner, that he 
was led to bid his friends hold him in special and affec- 
tionate remembrance: Though it should not be suppos- 
ed that, at the time when he broke the bread and poured 
out the wine, he was thinking of all the coming genera- 



A COMMUNION SERMON. 



315 



tions of his disciples who were to join in this service 
and be benefited by it, — though it should even be con- 
ceded that he thought only of the little circle of per- 
sonal friends gathered round him at the moment, — still, 
what is there to prevent his being to us, what he was 
to them, an object of personal attachment and rever- 
ence ? To honor and love him, we need to know, not 
his personal appearance, but his spiritual features, the 
divine lineaments of his inner being, and these — with 
what beauty and clearness do they beam upon us from 
the simple pages of his history ! Whether he now takes 
note of the world which he died to save, we dare not ven- 
ture to say. But if he does look down upon us, amidst 
all the sad sights that meet his view, it must be grateful 
to him to see, if we give it to be seen, as we may, that 
he is still remembered for his own sake, that the sacred 
voice of nature in our hearts still responds to that same 
voice of nature which spoke in him when he asked to 
be held in tender remembrance, — in fine, that his dying 
request has never been forgotten. 

At all events, to associate ourselves in imagination 
with him, to have our thoughts turned specially to him, 
— to make him an object of commemoration, — will it 
not help us where we continually require help ? We all 
know and admit the engrossing nature of our daily life, 
and our great need of every assistance to pure and up- 
right living ? And who is so far advanced in virtue as 
to be beyond being benefited by having his attention 
drawn, as it may be by this service, to dwell upon the 
character, the sufferings, the services, and the love of 
the greatest and purest being that ever dwelt in the 
abodes of men ? The fashion of the world binds us 
round and round with chains none the less strong be- 



316 



A COMMUNION SERMON. 



cause they are invisible, and we hardly so much as 
dream, or we only dream, of the true life, and freedom, 
and enjoyment which are close within our reach even 
here. And yet we know full well that we are far from 
being what we should be. We know that we are too 
much under the dominion of motives, pursuits, and habits 
of life inconsistent with our spiritual and immortal na- 
ture. We mourn sometimes that it is so, and inwardly 
our hearts long for the peace and strength and liberty 
of the children of God. Let us, then, be adjured to 
listen, young and old, to that blessed and tender voice 
which comes to us, sounding through the long ages of 
the past, speaking to our inmost souls, and saying, — ■ 
" Do this in remembrance of me. Like the bread which 
you break, my body was broken for the sake of that 
truth which is the life of the world. Like the out- 
pouring of the wine, so was my blood shed." By 
appropriating special and stated occasions for the com- 
memoration of our Heavenly Friend, we may hope to 
remember him at other times, when we need the holy 
idea of him to come swiftly before us, like a guardian 
angel, and rescue us from the temptations of the world 
and our own cunning and selfish passions. 

I feel it necessary to repeat what I have often said 
before, in regard to this observance, that there is noth- 
ing mystical and mysterious in it. To most minds a 
vague sacredness wraps it round, like a mist in which 
nothing is seen distinctly, and which imagination fills 
with its own frightful creations. Accordingly, men shrink 
from it instinctively, and cannot bring themselves serious- 
ly to weigh its claims, — to look at it as it is, and at the 
moral benefits which they might derive from it. Let it 
be understood that the bread and wine undergo no change 



A COMMUNION SERMON. 



317 



of substance. They have no sacredness in themselves, 
but are sacred only from the associations connected with 
them, only from the thought which they express and 
suggest to our minds. And the power, the moral, re- 
ligious power, of a symbol like these does not by any 
means depend upon its literal, intrinsic value. The re- 
membrances of our parents or our children who have 
vanished from our sight, down the dark valley, may 
be of the smallest value in themselves, and yet how 
are our hearts softened as we look at them. The me- 
mento of a departed friend may be absolutely worthless, 
but we may wear it as our most precious ornament when 
to another, ignorant of the meaning it has for us, it would 
be useless. Upon us it acts like a magic charm, and 
at the sight of it we become insensible to all surrounding 
things, and wander back in imagination to that distant 
time and spot where we took sweet counsel with our 
departed friend, and wept and rejoiced together. The 
symbol which appeals most powerfully to our love of 
country, which stirs the heart like a trumpet, and which 
has prompted men to rush with shouts of triumph into 
the arms of death, — what is it but a piece of painted 
cloth, floating idly in the air ? So is it with the bread 
and wine. They are in themselves the commonest ele- 
ments of food. But employed on this occasion, for the 
purpose indicated by Jesus, as remembrances of him, 
what holy associations gather round them, — of what mo- 
mentous events, of what sacred interests, of what beauty 
and glory and blessedness, do they mutely discourse ! 
Let us hearken now, brethren and friends, to their 
teachings. Let us consider some of the things of which 
this observance is the memento. 

In the first place, it is a memorial of Jesus himself. 
27* 



318 



A COMMUNION SERMON. 



It speaks to us of what he was in himself. Here dawns 
upon us the vision of a character of original, unap- 
proachable, and yet simple loveliness, — a young man in 
the bloom of life, endowed .by God as no other ever 
has been, with powers by which disease and death were 
made obedient to his will, in the consciousness of his 
divine gifts exalted to a sense of unearthly dignity, and 
yet all the while manifesting the meekness and simplicity 
of a child, never valuing himself upon his power, never 
using it to subserve any private purpose of his own, but 
consecrating it to the good of those who scorned and 
resisted him. His heart overflowed with tenderness, 
but none sympathized with him, none knew him. He 
was a stranger in the world for which he was ready to 
pour out his heart's blood. He saw that all his benevo- 
lent words and acts only exasperated the passions of the 
selfish and unprincipled, and that the best of those 
about him were terrified and hardly dared to be known 
as his friends, yet every variety of suffering he was 
ready to endure that men might be enlightened and saved. 
As we dwell upon his character, what a majestic and 
tender form rises before our imaginations ! Who does 
not see those arms outstretched in blessing, those eves 
streaming with tears of immortal pity ! O, if the thought 
of this wondrous being, so human and so divine, has 
ever touched our hearts, if we have been, in any de- 
gree, impressed by a sense of his moral beauty, then 
in this feeling we have the requisite qualification for the 
observance of this commemorative act ! Do you rever- 
ence Jesus Christ ? Do you feel how generous and sub- 
lime was his spirit ? Do you ever pray in your secret 
heart to be made wiser and better ? Would you love 
to be brought more nearly to Jesus, into a more intimate 



A COMMUNION' SERMON. 



319 



knowledge of him, that his character may act upon 
yours ? These are the only questions to be asked. 
If you are conscious that such are your desires, then 
come to the table of commemoration. Bring these hid- 
den desires and aspirations with you, and Jesus will meet 
and welcome you here. There is no power on earth 
that has a right to bar your approach. Come and com- 
mune with the spirit of him in whom all the beauty of 
humanity and all the glory of the Divinity are. conjoined 
and revealed. Come, not because you imagine yourself 
worthy, but because you have learnt how unworthy you 
are ; not because you esteem yourself righteous, but be- 
cause your heart is bursting and breaking with desires to 
be better. Come, hungering and thirsting after truth and 
holiness, after a pure mind and a tender and heavenly 
spirit and a Christian life. In these dispositions and 
aims young and old may share, and here they may un- 
derstand how naturally this observance addresses itself 
to our simple human affections, to our veneration, to 
whatsoever there is in us of love for what is good and 
excellent. 

Again, this observance is a remembrancer of the great 
work achieved by Jesus Christ. It is a monument, 
a memorial, of a renovated w 7 orld, of a world created 
anew by his influence. Considered simply as an his- 
torical fact, the life of Jesus of Nazareth was the be- 
ginning of a new era. He has made the world what 
it is now. Our whole condition is as it is, because he 
hath lived and died, through the force of those circum- 
stances which this table commemorates. Through him 
has been diffused over this land and to this generation 
all that there is of happiness, improvement, and hope 
in the state of mankind. That there is so much of 



320 



A COMMUNION SERMON. 



comfort and progress and security in human life is owing 
to him. Let it be that the principles he asserted were 
old as the world, that they had been asserted before, 
still the truth, which before he appeared hovered dimly 
in the speculations of philosophers, as at best only a 
beautiful vision, he realized. He embodied it in him- 
self. He breathed into it the breath of life, and made it 
a living soul, a vital, victorious element in the constitu- 
tion of the world. He proved its practicability under 
the most difficult circumstances. And although it has 
as yet had only a partial influence, still by his example 
men are encouraged and inspired, and there never have 
been, and never will be, wanting those who believe in 
the possibility of all that he has promised. And now 
that Jesus Christ has been here, there is an indestructi- 
ble hope for the world, and its path is upward and on- 
ward towards . a millennial glory, — to a day of universal 
peace and freedom and righteousness. The earth has 
been sprinkled by his precious blood, and old things must 
pass away, and all things become new. In a word, by 
him a new creation of the world has been commenced, 
— that creation which is accomplished through the in- 
strumentality of thoughts, of ideas. He has introduced 
new thoughts. He has given power and diffusion to 
new ideas, and these are the invisible angels of God, 
which fly abroad over the earth, making all things new. 
Of these Christian principles of thought this table is 
the memorial, and here we are reminded of the new 
modes of thinking, the great truths, to which Jesus 
Christ gave authority and life, and by which the con- 
dition of men is transformed. 

Consider, for instance, the great and universal sym- 
bol of Christendom, the cross. What an impressive 



A COMMUNION SERMON. 



321 



fact is this, that our most cherished, most sacred sym- 
bol, should be, not a weapon of war, not a sword, nor 
a spear, nor an ensign of visible power, a sceptre, or a 
crown, but the cross, that instrument of shame and 
death, which instantly suggests the image of an innocent 
and holy sufferer, expiring in untold agonies ! Who 
can tell how much this simple sign has had to do, in the 
great process of disciplining the human heart to tender- 
ness and humanity ? The great Head of Christendom 
is presented to us by this symbol, not as seated on a 
throne, not as wielding the thunders of omnipotence, 
but in an attitude of extreme and yet patient suffering. 
I put out of view all metaphysical and theological dog- 
mas concerning the reason and end and purpose of 
the death of Christ, and look only at the fact the most 
glorious and exalted of beings manifested in a con- 
dition that appeals to the universal heart of humanity, 
invoking its sympathy, its pity, and its tears, silently 
teaching the divinest of truths, that by suffering meekly, 
without revenge, without retaliation, in love and forgive- 
ness and prayer, the most glorious of victories may be 
won. To my mind there is something inexpressibly 
interesting in the fact that Jesus Christ planted in the 
very centre of a great company of warlike nations, 
armed to the teeth, such a symbol as this. It is 
true, they fathomed not its significance, they saw not 
how it rebuked their savage contests, or what an out- 
rage it was to unsheathe the sword in the presence of 
that sacred sign. Still, it has not been raised in vain. 
It has subdued the fury of war, and the nations are 
beginning to discern that great truth of which the cross 
of Christ is the symbol, and which Christ died to illus- 
trate, namely, that violence is to be conquered, not by 



322 



A COMMUNION SERMON. 



violence, but by love, — that the final and triumphant 
victor in every conflict is he who suffers evil but will not 
do it. Not less interesting and powerful is the influence 
which the whole history and spirit of the life and death 
of Christ have exerted upon the humanizing relations 
of domestic life, building for man a home and wreath- 
ing it with a thousand tender associations. How large 
a place does woman occupy in the history of Jesus, 
ministering to him on his weary journeyings, following him 
to the cross, weeping at his tomb ! Thus incidentally, 
as well as by the direct effect of its gentle and pacific 
spirit, Christianity has done much to elevate woman ; 
and what a fact is it in the history of our religion, in 
the history of man, that when all Europe was clad in 
steel, and the shedding of blood was accounted the 
most honorable occupation, and the hearts of men 
seemed hardened against every thing truly gentle and 
Christian, that then the universal object of worship 
should be, what ? — not the God of war, not some idol 
significant of valor and strength, not any symbol of 
violence, but the holy mother and her infant child, 
woman's purity and childhood's innocence, and united 
with these that most sacred affection, the mother's 
heart ! Such were the ideas, the images, which Chris- 
tianity diffused through the world, and by which the sav- 
age minds of men have been insensibly civilized, and art 
and genius have been inspired, and the world has been 
taught that there is a higher glory than the glory of 
arms. 

Again, at this table we are reminded of the diffusion 
and power which have been given by Jesus Christ to 
the sentiment of immortality. It has been rendered, 
under the Christian dispensation, a familiar, household 



A COMMUNION SERMON. 



323 



thought. I know that this great idea is not appreciated 
and felt as it should be. It has but little of its rightful 
influence upon the conduct of men. The opinion of 
the world has far greater power in swaying and restrain- 
ing mankind. Still it has an influence, in one way and 
another, that can hardly be estimated. It comforts us 
under the afflictions of life far more than we are aware. 
The idea of another life has always existed in the 
world, in every nation, barbarian and civilized. Yet 
there is a marked difference in this respect between 
Christendom and all other communities. Before Christ 
appeared, the wisest among men had no distinct thoughts 
of a future. There are still extant many Greek epi- 
taphs and funeral inscriptions. They are touching and 
beautiful, highly poetic, but their deep, sad silence re- 
specting another life renders them almost as chilling to 
the heart as the marble upon which they were inscribed. 
But now, through the influence of Christianity, — this 
religion which stands for ever pointing onwards, this re- 
ligion of progress and hope, — the whole tone of human 
thought, the whole manner of human speech, has under- 
gone a change, and when death invades our house- 
holds, though our tears flow, yet what a host of soothing 
thoughts and images throng around us ! A bright, invisi- 
ble world rises before us. The torch of life is pre- 
sented to us, not inverted, but as borne away by an un- 
seen hand to be kindled anew at the eternal light. A 
thousand forms of expression occur to us which invest 
the departed with a new beauty. There is yet gloom 
resting over the grave, still over every Christian grave 
sound those sublime and thrilling words of Jesus, — "I 
am the resurrection and the life." With the shadows 
of the tombs, rays of light and beauty intermingle. And 



324 



A COMMUNION SERMON. 



as we stoop to look down into the sepulchre, we behold 
angels there, and a voice addresses us, — " Why seek 
ye the living among the dead ? " Yes, ye mourning 
parents, ye mothers, who weep in silence for your 
vanished little ones, as faithful Christian women ye 
cannot now mourn as those that are without hope, for the 
image of. Christ, wondrous and majestic in its beau- 
ty, rises before you, and ye behold him standing in the 
still eternal world, like an angel in the sun. And with 
outstretched arms he says, — " Suffer your children to 
come unto me, for of such is the kingdom of heaven." 
Let them go. They still live before God, and the al- 
mighty love, of which your fondest affection is but a 
faint inspiration, is ministering unto them with a tender- 
ness of which you are not capable. Let the service 
of commemoration speak, then, to our hearts, for it tells 
us of him who died that all the burdens of human sor- 
row might be lightened. 

Once more. This observance reminds us that, through 
him whose memory we cherish, we have been made 
familiar with the great thought of a Paternal providence. 
This all-animating truth has circulated like a tide through 
Christendom, and we know not how much even the most 
insensible have been elevated by it. We are all folded 
in the arms of a Father. Infinite Love surrounds us, 
and we cannot fall from its embrace. Can we shut and 
bar our hearts to this light ? 

But it is in vain to think of specifying all the great 
and blessed things of which this table is the memorial, 
and by which this observance is justified. I ask not 
what you think of the nature of Christ. It is enough 
that we see in him our greatest benefactor under God, 
that we acknowledge him as the light and Redeemer of 



A COMMUNION SERMON. 



325 



man. If any religious service has significance and pro- 
priety, it is this. Let it not be neglected through in- 
difference, or weak and ill-considered scruples. But be 
ye fully persuaded in your own minds. Whether you 
observe one form or another, or omit to observe it, take 
care that you have the warrant of your own best con- 
victions, and that you are not timidly following, the way 
of the world. Be true to your own hearts, and the 
grace of God shall be with you. 



28 



SERMON XXVII. 



BY NATHANIEL L. FROTHINGHAM. 



PARADOXES IN THE IXSTITUTIOX OF THE 
SUPPER. 

EE THAT EATETH ME, EVEN HE SHALL LIVE BY ME. — John vi. 57. 

You will hardly believe that these words could ever 
have been a subject of dispute and division in the Chris- 
tian Church. They are so manifestly figurative, and 
the two parts of the sentence are set in contradiction to 
each other with such an obvious intention of uttering 
what would sound like a paradox, that we wonder how 
any one should have found in them a special doctrine 
and literal truth. Yet the Roman Church interpreted 
them to mean that Christ was personally present in the 
communion bread ; and the Lutherans maintained that 
they indicated at least a mystical union between the 
communicant and his Lord. These ideas may seem to 
you the almost forgotten errors of a very remote age. 
But they appear so only because you have been accus- 
tomed to more rational interpretations. They have by 
no means become obsolete. Were they ever so com- 
mon, however, even among ourselves, I should prefer to 
controvert them in no other way than by a simple state- 
ment of the opposite construction. They who are con- 



INSTITUTION OF THE SUPPER. 



tent thus to rest in the letter of the divine word show- 
that their minds are not yet fledged for a free flight. 

" He that eateih me, even he shall live by me." 
This passage is part of a remarkable conference between 
our Lord and a multitude of his countrymen in a syna- 
gogue at Capernaum, and will be best understood by re- 
ferring to the circumstances under which he spoke. 
Those men had followed him across the lake, after the 
miracle of the loaves, not from their faith, but from their 
poverty ; — not that they might be further instructed, but 
that they might be further fed. Hence he took occasion 
to teach them, that they should lt labor for that food which 
endureth unto everlasting life." He proceeded to rep- 
resent himself as the bread of God which cometh down 
from heaven. This was said in perfect accordance with 
that familiar form of speech, which described truth and 
righteousness as something that men must hunger and 
thirst after, as the nourishment of the soul. They mis- 
understood him, however, as they usually did, and cav- 
illed at his words. He then went on in a bolder strain, 
preserving the same metaphor, but expressing it in strong- 
er terms. He had already conceived the great purpose 
of becoming a voluntary victim in the cause for which 
he was sent. He joined this idea, therefore, to the other, 
and even went so far as to speak of his flesh and his 
blood as given for the life of the world, and actually to 
be partaken of by his disciples. This language was more 
than mysterious. It was offensive to them. So he 
intended it should be. They would not understand his 
plain teaching, and he therefore made his meaning dark- 
er with parables. He had been obliged but the day be- 
fore to hide himself from those who would have taken 
him by force to make him a king ; and he would now 



323 



PARADOXES IN THE 



rebuke their false ambition by purposely affronting their 
prejudices, and calling up to their minds the images of 
humiliation, pain, and death. This seems to me, at 
least, the only satisfactory account that can be given of 
this singular discourse of Christ. Its concluding ex- 
pressions must be owned to be harsh and repulsive. 
They were so to those who first heard them ; insomuch 
that some of his followers murmured at them, and from 
that time went back and walked no more with him. 
But we, instead of being perplexed or startled by them, 
should consider that they were designed to produce 
such an effect on those to whom they were originally 
addressed. Jesus, as he saw them retiring, turned to 
the twelve, and asked, — "Will ye also go away?" 
'Simon answered for the whole of his companions, — 
" Lord, to whom shall we go ? Thou hast the words of 
eternal life." 

" He that eateth me, even he shall live by me." He 
that receives my satisfying word in the faith of an hum- 
ble heart shall be strengthened by its heavenly supplies. 
He that is not ashamed of my cross shall inherit my 
kingdom. He that follows me through my reproach 
shall sit with me in my glory. He that profits himself 
of my death shall obtain life for ever. Such is the inter- 
pretation of the text. It has not been selected merely 
for the purpose of being explained, but because the sin- 
gularity of its phrase leads us to think of many other in- 
stances in which the doctrines of the Christian faith and 
the facts of the Saviour's history seem to be expressed 
in contradictions. Every thing is so wonderful in the 
circumstances of his life and the mediation of his word, 
that it communicates an air of strangeness and paradox 
to the very language in which they are conveyed. The 



INSTITUTION OF THE SUPPER. 



329 



most opposite ideas are brought together into the same 
sentence, and combine to set forth one truth. Many- 
passages might be cited as examples of this from the 
writings of the Apostles ^ especially when they are de- 
scribing the lowly appearance, yet the divine glory, of 
the Son of man. What contrasts of humiliation and 
honor, of grief and gladness, of weakness and might, 
are made to meet in the office which he sustained ! At 
once in the form of a servant and in the likeness of God, 
chosen of Heaven and rejected of men, he submitted 
to all the ills of nature, though he commanded its powers, 
saved others while he would not save himself, and se- 
lected the humble for his friendship and sought out the 
miserable as his hearers and subjects, though having a 
name above every name, and appointed to an immortal 
throne. His death was his triumph. The sacrifice of 
himself was the salvation of the world. 

" He that eateth me, even he shall live by me." This 
he said when fie was wearing himself out in labors, 
through which others were to find rest unto their souls. 
It was with the hope that they would learn submission 
from his meek example. He said it, also, in anticipation 
of that coming day, when, after his work was all accom- 
plished and nothing was left but to die, he should ad- 
dress the twelve in those words which his Church was 
never to forget, — u Take, eat ; this is my body." This 
was with the hope that the remembrance of his deeds 
and sufferings might inspire others with a like mind. 
Thus the text has a clear, though a remote, reference to 
the institution of the Holy Supper. It will be so con- 
sidered in this discourse. For us it does not contain 
any contradictory proposition, like that of the Roman- 
ists, who say that the broken bread is the real body of 
28* 



330 



PARADOXES IN THE 



him whom it is only intended to bring to mind. It gives 
no countenance to the mystical views of some of the 
Reformers, who imagined that the partaking of the Lord's 
Supper infused a peculiar virtue, and incorporated, as it 
were, the believing member with the glorified Head. 
The only further use I would make of it is to point out 
two singularities — we may call them paradoxes — in 
the ordinance of the communion, which have occurred 
to me as striking, and deserving of careful thought. 

The first of these is, that it is an institution founded 
on the future. It is a commemoration of what had not 
yet taken place. In the common order of things, it is 
after a great event that men seek to perpetuate the rec- 
ollection of it. They record the past. They set up 
their pillars of testimony, when the importance of the 
transactions which they bear witness to is generally ac- 
knowledged ; and they do this on spots that are already 
sacred to fame. Nor does this commonly happen soon. 
The usages they celebrate and the monuments they build 
for the instruction and encouragement of posterity often 
rise after a long interval of time. They are the inven- 
tion and work of the grateful minds and pious hands of 
a new generation, that thus seeks to transmit the deeds 
of a former day to the admiration of coming ages. — 
But what a remarkable difference is here ! Jesus Christ 
established the communion when the facts to which it 
related did not yet exist ; and when they on whom he 
enjoined its observance were ignorant what it meant. 
He was a living man, in the prime of his powers, sitting 
at a feast in the midst of devoted friends, and safe so 
far as appeared from any attempts of his enemies, when 
he said, — " This is my body, already broken for you." 
The current of life was flowing steadily through its natu- 



INSTITUTION OF THE SUPPER. 



331 



ral channels, when he said to his disciples, It is in the 
cup before you, already shed for many for the remis- 
sion of sins. Is there not something peculiarly noble 
and affecting in this, — something that partakes of a di- 
vine character ? To the eyes of Christ, the future to 
which he referred was present, — or rather was past. 
The circumstances of his approaching fate were dis- 
cerned as transactions that were just accomplished. 
How must the faith of his followers have gathered ardor 
and strength, when they found events explaining their 
Master's meaning, while they confirmed his truth, and 
time itself revealing gradually his prophetic wisdom and 
sacrificing love ! When they came together the day 
after the crucifixion, in sadness and fear, astounded at 
what had happened, and in utter darkness as to what was 
to come, the remembrance of that paschal feast must 
have told them not to despair. It must have filled them 
with the resolution to keep together at least as a dis- 
tinct company, though the world should cast them out, 
and to profess their faith in the Master they had lost, 
though their solitary profession should be, like the cry of 
his forerunner, but a voice in the wilderness. Had the 
resurrection never explained to them the purposes of 
God in the sufferings of his Son, — had the shadow 
never departed from off the marvellous scenes, now so 
mysteriously closed, in which the late years of their 
lives had been spent, — even then they would have con- 
tinued to celebrate his faithfulness in the little company 
which he had gathered, and have gone down to their 
graves in the hope that revelations of mercy would yet 
break forth, though they were not permitted to behold 
them, from the inexplicable darkness in which they were 
wrapped. 



332 



PARADOXES IN THE 



There is another consideration, that seems to me as 
remarkable as the one just mentioned. The institution 
of the Supper was to perpetuate the memorial of what 
was painful and ignominious. Here again is a wide de- 
parture from the usual course of things. Men do not 
ordinarily select those incidents which are charged with 
gloomy reflections to tell their story of defeat and sor- 
row to after times. They would rather keep such out 
of sight. They would fain erase them from their own 
thoughts, and not inscribe them on monuments. They 
love to immortalize by stated celebrations, or permanent 
signs, such events as catch the w T onder of men, and are 
connected with ideas of glory ; — such as the winning 
of battles, the founding or the saving of states, surpris- 
ing acts of valor or munificence, and all the palms and 
trophies of success. These are the subjects which they 
desire to hold up before their children and children's 
children. These are the monuments of which they 
celebrate the laying of the corner-stone, and the crown- 
ing of the summit, with processions, and a nation's re- 
joicing, and the eloquence of great men. Or if they 
set up those of an opposite kind, — testimonial pillars of 
wrong and suffering, — it has been usually for no other 
purpose than to transmit to a further age the animosity 
of the present ; to keep alive the feelings of hate or 
the purpose of revenge. — Mark the contrast in this rite 
that Christ founded. It is of a disgraceful death that he 
wishes to make the memory immortal. He would per- 
petuate the recollection of that moment which seemed 
to give the triumph to his foes, to overwhelm those who 
loved and confided in him with obloquy and despair, and 
to leave to utter ruin the cause for which he had lived, 
— the moment when his pretensions were to be cruelly 



INSTITUTION OF THE SUPPER. 



333 



mocked in the sight of the whole people, and he was to 
expire as a malefactor. All this, too, in the loftiest spirit 
of good-will to men that was ever manifested or con- 
ceived of. Not to inspire his adherents with an imper- 
ishable dislike to those by whom that atrocious deed 
should be done, — not to stir up the nations to avenge 
his fall, — but to offer an exhibition of devoted duty and 
disinterested love, and establish a blessing that should be 
extended universally and never cease. 

There were points in his history of a far different 
nature which he might have selected for commemora- 
tion in his church. But he passed them by. He ap- 
pointed no service to celebrate the day of his baptism, 
when that solemn introduction to his ministry was sanc- 
tioned by a voice from heaven ; — none to celebrate the 
night of his transfiguration, which was brightened by the 
visitants from another world. He did not signalize in this 
way any of his mighty works, any of the hopeful and 
brilliant portions of his life. He chose above them all 
the season of his betrayal, rejection, mockery, and mur- 
der. He took in his hands the bread, that he was going 
to turn into so mournful a symbol, and in the act of 
breaking it he gave thanks. What instance of devotion 
can you conceive of, that approaches this in tenderness 
and sublimity ? He gave thanks, as he was preparing 
to go as a lamb to the slaughter. He gave thanks, as 
he was teaching his disciples to remember his sufferings. 
Hence the ceremony which we observe is sometimes 
called the Eucharist, — thanksgiving. Was it not a 
thanksgiving wrought out of the midst of what our poor 
nature most shrinks from ? Was it not the very eucha- 
rist of sorrow ? 

But why, some one may ask, did he choose such an 



334 



PARADOXES IN THE 



incident to be peculiarly honored in the records and 
ceremonies of his church, seeing it was agonizing and 
ignominious both ? It was because it crowned his obe- 
dience and led to his reward. He saw in his death the 
long blessing that should follow it. He saw in his blood 
the seed of a great and spreading faith, and the Gentile 
nations coming to sit under the shadow of it. He saw 
his numerous followers making it their honor and com- 
fort to recall this scene of shame and tribulation. He 
saw that cross, the frame for an infamous punishment, 
revered as a blessed sign among the most different tribes 
of the earth. Were not here reasons enough for his 
preference ? And do we not thus see in every part of 
this institution the spirit of prophecy in which it was con- 
ceived ? What need have we of further witness ? See 
here one of those traits, such as are often found in the 
Scriptures when they are well pondered, which carries 
at once to the soul the confidence and the ardor of faith. 
Let the Jews demand a sign, and the Greeks seek after 
wisdom. It is enough for me to look at Jesus on that 
memorable night ; to hear him " speak of the exodus 
which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem," — if 
I may apply from another occasion to this the remarka- 
ble expression of an Evangelist, — and arrange a cere- 
monial to prevent its ever being forgotten. 

Come, then, to his table, you who are of a cold and 
languid faith. You may derive from the contemplation 
of his strong love the sentiment that you need for the 
kindling of your affections . You who find the yoke of 
the Lord heavy and his commandments grievous, — you 
who are anxious to withdraw yourselves from every toil 
and sacrifice, — come to the table. Come and be pene- 
trated with his obedience and charity. Come and learn to 



INSTITUTION OF THE SUPPER. 



335 



love him as he loved you. You will find no difficulty in 
what is required of you, when you have once made your- 
selves familiar with the extent of his benevolence, and the 
trials that he passed cheerfully through in displaying it. 
You who are not sensible enough of the evil of sin and 
the fearfulness of its chastisements, come to the table. 
Remember what he endured, who put away sin by the 
sacrifice of himself ; and regard not that as a light thing 
which he died to remove ; and tremble at the thought 
of receiving the grace of God in vain. Come you, 
who are already endeavouring well, and hoping right- 
eously, that your success may be the greater. And you 
who are self-convicted of many faults, come, that your 
offences may be the less. Let all come but the perfect, 
who have no need of improvement, and the abandoned, 
who have no love or thought of heaven. To the first, 
the Gospel was not sent ; and to the last, it is of no 
avail. 



SERMON XXVIII. 



BY EPHRAIM PEABODY, 



THE LORD'S SUPPER TO BE OBSERVED. 

FOR AS OFTEN AS YE EAT THIS BREAD, AND DRINK THIS CUP, YE DO 

show the lord's death till he come. — 1 Corinthians xi. 26. 

In calling your attention, my brethren, to that Chris- 
tian rite which had its origin in these words of Christ, the 
first question to be considered is, whether our Saviour 
intended it to be a permanent ordinance, — to be ob- 
served, from generation to generation, by his followers. 
The answer to this question must of course be deter- 
mined entirely by our Saviour's words. The account of 
the institution of the ordinance is to be found almost in 
the same terms in each of the Gospels of Matthew, 
Mark, and Luke, and in the First Epistle to the Corin- 
thians. The following is the account given to the Co- 
rinthians : — " The Lord Jesus the same night in which 
he was betrayed took bread ; and when he had given 
thanks, he brake it, and said, Take, eat ; this is my 
body, which is broken for you ; this do in remembrance 
of me. After the same manner, also, he took the cup, 
when he had supped, saying, This cup is the New 
Testament in my blood ; this do ye, as often as ye 
drink it, in remembrance of me. For as often as ye 



THE LORD'S SUPPER TO BE OBSERVED. ,337 



eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye do show the Lord's 
death till he come." The other passages add one or 
two circumstances, but this contains the substance of all 
which enables us to determine whether it was intended 
to be a rite for perpetual observance. We shall more 
easily come to a just conclusion by dividing the question. 

Did our Saviour intend to establish a rite which his 
Apostles should observe after his death ? 

At the close of the Paschal Supper, " he took bread 
and blessed and brake it, and gave it to his disciples, 
saying, As often as ye do this, do it in remembrance 
of me." " As often as." Without giving any rigid 
rule- as to its frequency, leaving this to be determined 
by circumstances, this phrase implies that it was to be 
repeated, and also that it was to be repeated after his 
death, since it was to be in u remembrance " of him. 
Nor this alone. He singles out the particular event 
to be commemorated. " This is my body which is 
broken," u my blood which is shed." It was to be in 
remembrance of his death, and his request could not 
be complied with till after that event. We cannot doubt 
that he intended that his Apostles should observe this 
rite of remembrance after his death. 

Did he, then, intend that the rite should be confined 
to the Apostles, or that it should be observed by all his 
followers ? 

W T e must remember that what he taught the Apostles 
he taught for the express purpose that they might teach 
others. They stood to him as representatives of all 
who should believe on him. His words were addressed 
primarily to them. But what he commands them to do, 
unless there be something in the nature of the case or in his 
words to limit it to them, is addressed to all his followers. 
29 



338 the lord's supper to be observed. 



But in the present case there is nothing to confine it 
to them. So far from it, the reason given for observing 
the rite applies not more to them than to us. He says, 
tc This is my body broken, and blood shed, for many, 
for the remission of sins." For this he would be remem- 
bered. He did not teach or die specially for the twelve 
disciples. His death secured no good to them which 
it does not equally to us. In the very form of words he 
uses, it is not confined to them, but it is " the blood shed 
for many for the remission of sins." The reason which 
Christ gives for its observance applies as much to us as 
to his Apostles. It would seem to be the natural sug- 
gestion of his words, that all who are benefited by his 
death should thus commemorate him. 

But this is not all. There is another consideration, 
which seems absolutely decisive of the question. The 
account of the institution of this rite is contained in a 
few lines. And though the Evangelists have recorded 
the substance, doubtless much more was said in that 
parting hour. If, from the brevity of the narrative, we 
have any uncertainty as to what the Saviour intended, 
we shall best learn what it was, by seeing what the Apos- 
tles did. The course they pursued showed what they 
understood him to mean. Their actions explain their 
narrative. 

Did the Apostles regard the rite as one to be observed 
by all the followers of Christ, or did they not so regard 
it ? There can be but one answer. Immediately after 
the death of Christ, some of the Apostles went east, 
and some west ; they were scattered over the world, 
they were too widely separated to hold much inter- 
course together ; yet wherever they went and planted 
a church, they instituted this ordinance. In Asia, in 



THE LORD'S SUPPER TO BE OBSERVED. 339 



Africa, in the distant regions of Western Europe, wher- 
ever a church of new converts was gathered, this rite 
was observed. We never hear a doubt raised that it 
was not to be observed by all. Whatever uncertainty 
there might be about other things, respecting this they 
were of one mind. The greatest perversion of the 
rite leads to no question of the duty of observing it. 
The Corinthians, just converted from heathenism, after 
Paul left them, turned it into almost a heathen festival. 
What does Paul do ? Does he tell them that it was not 
originally intended for them, and that they had better 
omit it, because of its liability to be abused ? Not at 
all. There is no intimation that they were not bound to 
observe it, or that its observance should cease, but he 
rebukes them and expostulates with them, and sets forth 
its true nature and intent. And in explaining it he 
says, what is most observable, — " As often as ye 
eat this bread and drink this cup, ye do show the 
Lord's death till he come," — a memorial of Christ's 
death through all the ages of the church, till the con- 
summation of all things. There can be no doubt that 
the Apostles regarded it as a rite to be observed by 
all the followers of Christ. When we remember that 
they were appointed and sent forth by our Saviour to 
be the teachers of his religion, their words and example 
become authority for us. Remembering the nature of 
the ordinance, the words of Christ, the course of the 
Apostles, there seems to be no room for doubt that it 
was intended to be observed through all time, wher- 
ever there were hearts to honor the memory, or to be 
grateful for the love, of Jesus. 

But still, many are perplexed with difficulties ; and 
one of the chief ones arises out of the marked tendency 



340 the lord's supper to be observed. 

of the age to do away with forms. It is a mere form, it 
is said, — and what is its use ? It is not like any moral 
duty ; — I can observe it and still not be a better man. 
It is a mere form, and is a hindrance and a fetter to the 
spirit. 

It is admitted, that to him to whom it is a mere form, 
devoid of spiritual significance, it is worthless, and per- 
haps worse. A mere form, a dead form, is but solemn, 
idle trifling with the holiest realities. But a form need 
not be dead. Let it bring vividly before me divine 
truth and heavenly graces, and by so doing help to 
awaken my mind to them, and the form has become to 
me instinct with spiritual life and of infinite value. It is 
only through outward forms that one mind becomes man- 
ifest to another, or exerts power over it. A form ! What 
is it ? A book is a mere form of words, — an outward 
body through which an invisible spirit reveals itself. I 
take up the writings of some ancient and good man. If 
1 read the printed page with a lifeless mind, it is to me a 
mere sequence, a dead form, of words. But it is not 
this. It reveals the spirit of the author. It does some- 
thing to awaken for the moment a like spirit in me. It 
is as a lens, which concentrates the thoughts, feelings, 
faith, of the writer, and brings their light and warmth to 
rest on my heart. Through that 'form, a ray of light, 
which else for me had been extinguished, is made to 
stream down through the dark gulf of ages into my soul. — 
So the Lord's Supper is a form. But call it not a mere 
form. So long as it speaks, as it has always spoken, of 
the holy submission, the forgiving tenderness, the divine 
beneficence of him whom we commemorate, so long as 
it has power through its associations to touch our hearts, 
to awaken penitent thoughts and holier resolves, it is no 
longer a mere form, — it is spirit and it is life. 



THE LORD'S SUPPER TO BE OBSERVED. 341 



But we may go further. We may well distrust the 
tendency to do away with all forms. Who stands so 
self-sustained that he does not need their help ? Who 
does not need them, that they may steady his unstable 
thoughts, and that his holier aspirations may wind around 
them, as they strive feebly to rise above the earth, and 
find support ? 

There is nothing that we more need than times and 
rites which shall make us pause and consider. We are 
borne along, blind and heedless, in a hurrying throng of 
worldly cares and schemes. We need occasions which 
shall bring us to a stand, which shall draw us aside from 
this vain struggle of earthly passions, and make us con- 
sider where we are and whither we are going, — occa- 
sions that shall speak to us of duty, of the soul's welfare, 
of heaven, and of God. For this reason, the institutions 
of religion are to be cherished, and all customs whose 
legitimate influence is to draw aside the mind from this 
absorbing worldliness. Still let men rear churches for 
worship, and let anthems of praise be sung by the living, 
and prayers be breathed over the biers of the dead, for 
they recall that which should be first of all remembered, 
but which we so easily forget. Blessed for this be the 
Sabbath sun, and its hours of calm, — and welcome the 
sound of Sabbath bells, calling the great brotherhood of 
men to pray ! And welcome, above all, that holy 
rite which brings me to the foot of the cross, which 
shows me him who is dying there to save men from their 
sins, and which compels me to think how, in his pure 
sight, my heart and life must appear ! 

We need such occasions as the suggestions of better 
thoughts and the reminders of duty. We are hardly 
conscious how very much the direction of our minds 
29* 



342 the lord's supper to be observed. 



depends on the moral influences and associations which 
surround us. With most men, the objects around them 
suggest thought and feeling. The senses rule the mind. 
If this be so, how important that there should be around 
us what may awaken our better thoughts ! Consider 
how vast a part of the influences around us tend to make 
the mind worldly and earthly, how few of them, com- 
paratively, tend to quicken the higher elements of the 
soul. The objects which meet the eye and suggest so 
large a part of our thoughts, — the crowded streets, 
ships, houses, lands, the pleasures of to-day and fears for 
to-morrow, schemes for worldly advantage, plans to 
avoid loss, — by ten thousand threads of association, 
these tend to bind the spirit down to the present moment 
and to the earth. We need to have around us objects 
which are associated with, and which shall thus call our 
minds up to, a higher region of thought and sentiment. 
W r e want, through their associations, by spiritualizing 
the world, to make it counteract its own bad influence. 

How powerful over us and how precious are all objects 
thus connected with higher and holier ideas ! The 
thoughts associated with such objects enter into your 
mind and lift you up for a time into their region. You 
visit a place where some act of heroic self-devotion has 
been done, some field once wet w r ith the blood of heroic 
men, or hallowed by the prayers of the devout, — no 
matter where it is, it is holy ground, and every human 
being feels the power of the associations of the place. 
It is good to have been there. Remove these spots, and 
earth would be disenchanted. The stars would be 
blotted from the sky, and blank darkness alone left. 
How precious to you the least thing associated with the 
affections. On some worldly quest among the papers 



THE LORD'S SUPPER TO BE OESERVED. 343 



and relics of past days, you meet with some memorial of 
affection, of a parent or child or revered friend, — it may 
be but a lock of hair cut from the forehead of the dead, 
while with sad heart and flowing tears you leaned over 
the unconscious corpse, — it may be but some brief line 
of love traced by them while yet alive, — but how, when 
you have scarcely taken it in your hand, it has already 
possessed itself of your soul ! Long-forgotten memories 
revive, affections long slumbering are quickened, the 
forms of the departed float before you, your soul, losing 
its worldly thoughts, is with them. And you go forth a 
more sober and a better man for that hour's communion 
with the departed. For a similar reason, because of its 
suitableness to rouse and impart energy to the moral 
nature, it was the advice of the late Dr. Arnold to those 
who sought his counsel as to a course of reading, — 
" Read the lives of good men." While we read, their 
spirits are present with us, their thoughts and views 
of life take possession of our minds, our moral natures 
are invigorated, and for a season we feel inspired with a 
firmer purpose to do and bear what God appoints. How 
many have felt, in this place, the power of objects once 
associated with the better feelings to awaken them 
again ! Here, perhaps, in infancy, the waters of bap- 
tism were poured on your forehead. Here, in child- 
hood, you sat with those dear to you, and listened to 
Christian instructions. Here you may have brought 
your own children to the altar. And around you may 
be sleeping those you loved, parents, children, kindred, 
friends. Here your heart may have been moved to 
prayer and to holy purposes. Leave the place, and for 
a time be a wanderer over the earth, and at length return 
again. These walls are not merely frozen, insensible 



344 the lord's supper to be observed. 



stone. As you sit in your ancient seat, invisible forms 
are around you. Memories of your best hours revive. 
Your youth returns. And trusting thoughts, and tender 
affections, and pious resolves come, like angel visitants, 
to the soul. You hear voices which others do not hear, 
speaking of innocent days, of early affection, of manhood 
unfaithful, perhaps, to its early hopes, — voices of sad 
warning, of cheering encouragement, of God and of 
heaven. To you the place is sacred, and it is good for 
you to sit silently within its shadows. 

It is not all superstition, but in its origin only a just 
appreciation of one of the most important laws of human 
nature, which has made the Catholic Church cover the 
walls of its temples with pictures of saints and martyrs, 
and scenes of heroic self-sacrifice and Christian fidelity. 
It was not all superstition which caused it to set up the 
cross in the chamber and in the cell ; which reared it 
beside the fountain that gushed from the hill-side to invite 
the weary traveller, who paused to drink, to kneel also 
and pray ; which placed it above the altar around which 
the assembled worshippers bowed ; and installed it, 
sculptured in stone, over the tower, there to stand im- 
movable in the clear heavens, a perpetual symbol and 
remembrance to the busy throng below of him who died 
that the w T orld might live. 

Such, in a still higher degree, is this memorial rite. It 
speaks tenderly — how often with mournful warning! — 
of faith that rose above the world, of love mightier than 
the fear of death, of all heavenly excellences with which 
we most need to have our own souls filled. We would 
not willingly consent to see the desecration of the graves of 
the common dead, we would not witness the defacement 
of any monument of noble deeds or heroic men, we 



THE LORD'S SUPPER TO BE OBSERVED. 345 



load with reproaches the barbarian hands that could 
mar works of art, the memorials of the genius of past 
days. What, then, shall we say of a monument, a per- 
petual memorial of the world's benefactor and Saviour, 
of that being who alone embodied in himself and made 
manifest as our example those excellences which bring 
the soul nearest to God, — a memorial instituted almost 
with his last words, and preserving in our memories and 
affections his death. Let the temples where our fathers 
worshipped crumble, and let triumphal arches fall, and 
the monuments of past glory and achievement perish ; 
but for our own souls' sake and our children's sake, that 
our hearts may feed on divine thoughts and sacrifices, 
we will hallow this memorial of disinterested, holy, 
heavenly love, such as the world has not elsewhere 
seen and will never again see, till the deep give up its 
dead, and we stand in his presence who died for us, in 
that world to which he has gone. 

But, it is said, it is of no use. Take, then, the utili- 
tarian point of view. What is the use of any thing ? 
The highest good that can be done for me is to quicken 
my moral nature. All else is external, superficial, of 
transient value. But to suggest a good thought, to 
awaken pure affections, to rouse my moral nature so 
that I shall be prepared and disposed for holy purposes, 
— ■ an angel cannot do more for me than this. Who will 
say that there has not flowed from this altar of com- 
memoration a perpetual stream of such influences ? 
There is never an occasion of its observance in which, 
in nearly every heart, there are not serious reflections on 
its fidelity, penitent regrets for failure in duty, resolves 
for amendment. How many forgiving thoughts have 
made this place sacred ! How many, while seated here, 



346 the lord's supper to be observed. 



have said in their hearts, These feelings of enmity which 
I have allowed towards my neighbour I will allow no 
longer ! How many foes have left this place to be rec- 
onciled ! How many resolved to be more considerate 
in their households, more mindful of Christ's law in 
their daily walk ! How many have here resolved that 
they will no longer waver, that they will take their stand 
on Christian principle, and be faithful unto the end ! Re- 
member, too, that this has taken place, not in one church, 
but in all the churches of Christendom, and this through 
eighteen hundred years, and who shall doubt its utility ? 
Nay, what one influence, save the spirit of God, and 
the truths of his word, has so awakened penitent and 
forgiving thoughts, disinterested affections, religious emo- 
tions, and so confirmed men in religious purposes, as 
this holy ordinance ? 

And besides, its whole influence is beneficent and 
holy. The world may stir up your jealousies and in- 
flame your passions. But this ordinance has no power 
save to soothe and calm and elevate. What frail creat- 
ure, in this tempting world, can afford to dispense with 
an influence which is of heaven, and which, if it do any 
thing, quickens into life that which has most affinity with 
heaven in his own soul. 

But I do not like to view it in this way. I do not 
like the common mode of speaking of it as a means even. 
I do not care to calculate too closely what I can gain 
by it. I do not wish to observe it for any specified ad- 
vantage it may secure me. I would observe it this day, 
because of the spiritual gratification it gives me this day 
to do it. There is no need of weighing and measuring 
future advantages. It is enough that it can fill the mind 
with thoughts which I should be glad might have, not a 



THE LORD'S SUPPER TO BE OBSERVED. 347 



transient, but perpetual, presence there. It is sufficient 
that, through its associations, I can more vividly call to 
mind that which I desire never to forget, the life, benefi- 
cence, and sufferings of the Saviour. It was in the be- 
ginning a rite of love and tender memory, and in grateful 
remembrance, in devout purposes, in humble thanksgiv- 
ings, let it still be observed. 

It can be easily imagined that there are not a few 
who would gladly partake of this ordinance, who may 
have long desired it, but who, by different causes, are 
deterred from it. The most common cause is the feel- 
ing of personal unworthiness. How, then, and how far, 
should this weigh with us ? If by unworthiness one 
means that he has no desire or purpose to lead a Chris- 
tian life, then he properly abstains from it. But if by 
unworthiness he means simply a sense of frailty and sin- 
fulness, but not a satisfaction with that state, if it be his 
heart's hope and wish to be a better man, if from the 
midst of his unworthiness he looks up and says, like the 
sinking Apostle, c ' Save, Lord, or I perish," if he sin- 
cerely desire and purpose to be a follower of Christ, let 
not the feeling of present unworthiness deter him from 
this table, but let the hope of a better state bring him to 
it. This ordinance is not for the perfect, — for then 
neither apostle, nor saint, nor martyr, could have partak- 
en in it, — but it is for beings like us, for the frail and 
the sinful and the weak, who lift up their hearts in Chris- 
tian resolves and in prayers to God, that they may have 
strength to walk more faithfully in the Christian way. 
The words of Christ, explaining the purpose of the rite, 
show who should approach this table. " Do this in re- 
membrance of me." It is not an ordinance for the 
thankless, the thoughtless, or the unbelieving. But the 



348 the lord's supper to be observed. 



invitation is to all who with reverential gratitude desire 
to commemorate their Saviour and their Lord, who 
desire to be more grateful and more obedient, who de- 
sire to receive into their souls more of his spirit. You 
may come humbly and weighed down with conscious 
unworihiness, but bring a penitent, grateful heart, that 
longs for a better state, and he will not repel you from 
his table who came to save the sinful, to encourage the 
faint-hearted, and to uphold the weak. 

There never was a more touching scene than that 
when this rite was instituted. It was the last time that 
Jesus should break bread with his disciples before his 
death. He left that chamber for the agony of the garden, 
to encounter treachery and desertion, the unjust tribu- 
nals, the outcries of the frantic and ferocious people, 
the death of the cross. This was his last request of his 
followers. He that was dying for them would be re- 
membered by them in love. Are there those w T hose 
hearts impel them to obey that last request ? Surely, 
it is a good impulse. It is well to obey the better 
promptings of the soul. We yield quite enough to the 
impulses of lower and more unworthy hours. When 
higher thoughts and holier purposes move you, for the 
sake of your soul's welfare repel them not, but obey 
them. 

Come, then, and remember him who died that he might 
bring back the sinful and the wandering to their Father's 
home. Come, and while you remember him, examine 
your own hearts. Are you at variance with your 
neighbour ? — while you commemorate him who prayed 
that his murderers might be forgiven, make this place 
sacred by the reconciliation of your enmities. Have 
you been unkind in your home? — here bind yourself 



THE LORD'S SUPPER TO BE OBSERVED. 349 



to fidelity to gentler and more loving affections. Have 
you been hard and inconsiderate towards the poor, the 
forsaken, the oppressed? — while you remember him 
who went about doing good, repent of your selfish ways, 
and let merciful thoughts prompt you to deeds of mercy. 
Do you mourn ? — here remember the Comforter. Are 
you frail and self-distrustful ? — remember him who said, 
" Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, 
and I will give you rest." Is your faith weak? — • 
come, and from this spectacle of unbounded submission, 
learn to trust in God. Do you fear to die ? — here re- 
member him who is the resurrection and the life. While 
you listen to the words, u Do this in remembrance of 
me," here, at the foot of the cross, let it be your heart's 
resolve, We will remember and we will follow thee. 



30 



SERMON XXIX. 



BY SAMUEL K. LOTHROP. 



FALSE SHAME AND TRUE GLORY. 

FOR I AM NOT ASHAMED OF THE GOSPEL OF CHRIST. — Rom. i. 16. 

Hypocritical piety is not a prevalent sin of our 
times, but the hypocrisy of indifference has its votaries, 
who could not utter the declaration of the text with a 
conscious integrity of heart. Formerly, in countries 
where religion was in alliance with civil power, in peri- 
ods when the church was a stepping-stone to authority 
and wealth, there were doubtless some hypocritical pro- 
fessors of religion, who made a gain of godliness and 
assumed an external piety as a means of social advance- 
ment, the chief instrument of their ambition. The real- 
ity being advantageous in a worldly point of view, the 
counterfeit was not uncommon. 

There is some reason to believe, that, at the present 
day, an opposite state of things exists. There are now 
more persons ashamed to make a profession of religion 
than pretenders to any degree of it which they have not 
attained. Many persons love God, and fear him also, 
far more than they are willing to acknowledge before the 
world. Religious pretension is not now, here and among 
us, a common vice ; religious indifference — an indiffer- 



FALSE SHAME AND TRUE GLORY. 



351 



ence in the manners and appearance that is not a sincere 
expression of the heart — is common. Timid and back- 
ward believers, persons who are ashamed to confess 
the strength of their faith, who have not courage to stand 
up before the world and acknowledge the Gospel as the 
rule of their lives and the joy of their hearts, are more 
numerous now than the hypocritical professors or the 
open enemies of the Gospel. There are many, of whom 
it may be said of them that they are " ashamed of the 
Gospel of Christ," and this shame operates in various 
ways to injure their characters, to retard their Christian 
progress, and to diminish their usefulness and their influ- 
ence. I propose to speak of it as it affects their conduct 
in relation to that holy and beautiful rite of commemora- 
tion which here appeals to their affections, is offered to 
their observance. 

Permit me to say, first, my friends, that among 
those who are not members of the church, not profes- 
sors of religion, to use a technical phrase, there are 
many of you whom I cannot but regard as religious and 
devout persons, every way w T orthy to be received to our 
communion. I have seen you and watched you under 
various vicissitudes and in a large experience of human 
life. In your sorrows, I have observed that the Gospel 
afforded you rich and abundant consolations. Its pre- 
cious and immortal hopes soothed your hearts under the 
pangs of bereavement, and gave you strength to endure 
affliction with meekness. I have known you to resist 
pressing temptations with success, and to hold fast your 
integrity and purity against loud calls of passion and op- 
portunity to surrender both. In the sacred walks of pri- 
vate and domestic life, I have seen some of you dis- 
charge, day after day, month after month, hard and pain- 



352 



FALSE SHAME AND TRUE GLORY. 



ful duties with a cheerful alacrity, an unfaltering fidelity, 
that could have their source, it seems to me, only in an 
inner principle of obedience. I cannot but think that 
the Gospel is dear to your hearts, that in secret you re- 
joice in it, and appeal to it, and reverence it. It does 
much to soothe your sorrows, to elevate your minds, to 
guide your lives. You do not openly and avowedly pro- 
fess it, but no power on earth could make you deny it. 
All that the world has to offer could not induce you to 
resign your faith and your hope in it. 

I believe, also, that to you the first Sunday of every 
month brings with it something of regret and reproach. 
As you then turn away from this ordinance, you do so 
with a heart and conscience ill at ease. You are not quite 
satisfied with yourselves. You feel that you are neglect- 
ing both a duty and a. privilege. You feel that you 
ought, you wish that you were, to remain and unite in 
this sweet memorial of that crucified Redeemer, upon 
whose instructions you have dwelt with so much benefit, 
whose death and resurrection have inspired your hearts 
with holy and everlasting hopes. And why do you not 
remain? Why are you thus almost, but only "al- 
most, persuaded to be a Christian" ? The answer that 
rises to your lips is, that you are not good enough. Is 
it the true answer of your hearts ? You calm your con- 
sciences with the idea, that it is a feeling of reverence 
and humility that keeps you back, that withholds you 
from participating in that communion, which bringeth 
condemnation upon every one that eateth and drinketh 
unworthily. I dare not undertake to deny this ; nor 
would I say aught that should tend to check that deep 
reverence, that holy veneration, -with whiefe religion, in 
all its truths and in all its services, should be regarded. 



FALSE SHAME AND TRUE GLORY. 353 

But I ask you, my friends, — I put the question in all 
respect and kindness, and I beseech you to put it to your 
consciences in all sincerity before God, — is there not, 
mingled with this just sentiment of reverence, some feeling 
of another kind, less worthy and less Christian in its char- 
acter ? Is not this other feeling the real obstacle ? Could 
you overcome this, would the other keep you long away ? 
Do you ever feel too unworthy to pray ? Are you ever 
oppressed with such a deep and profound reverence 
oward God, that you cannot lift up your heart to him, 
whose ear is ever open to his children's supplications ? 
The more unworthy you are, the more you feel the need 
of prayer, and the more profound your reverence, the 
more humble, but the more earnest and trustful, your 
devotion. Do you ever feel too unworthy to come to 
church, too sinful and ignorant to wait upon the Lord in 
his temple ? The more unworthy, sinful, ignorant, you 
are, the more you feel the need and seek the aid of 
the instructions and influences of the church. Prayer 
and attendance upon church attract no particular atten- 
tion. The one can be offered in private, the other in 
the general custom of the community. But such is the 
constitution of the Christian chifrch, and the very nature 
of the act, that to come to the communion table is a 
step by itself. It is something peculiar, something that 
necessarily directs more or less attention to the individu- 
al, and implies that his heart is moved by a deep re- 
ligious impulse to an important and decided act. You 
shrink from this important and decided act because it is 
decided and important. You do not like to say to the 
world all that is implied and comprehended in it. Upon 
religious subjects, upon your responsibilities as an ac- 
countable, your destiny as an immortal heing, you really 
30* 



354 FALSE SHAME AND TRUE GLORY. 



feel more than you are willing to let others know that you 
feel. If you could come to the communion table, and 
use this great means of spiritual culture, enjoy this pre- 
cious season of devout thought and grateful commemora- 
tion, without others observing it or remarking upon it, 
you would not hesitate to do so. If this be so, it is 
shame, and not humility, — a fear of what others will say, 
and not a reverence for the ordinance and a dread of un- 
worthy participation, — that keeps you from observing it. 

The ordinance itself is beautiful, simple, impressive. 
It has a solemn purpose and meaning, a mighty, I had 
almost said, a mysterious, efficacy. I will say that it 
has a power peculiar to itself to touch the deepest places 
of the soul, to invigorate the conscience and to quicken 
the whole moral nature of man with a divine energy. In 
the shadows of the past, in the great and wide provi- 
dence of God as unfolded in the history of the world, 
there is nothing that has left upon the human mind an 
image of itself so vivid and divine, nothing that has ex- 
ercised over the human heart an influence so holy and 
elevating, as that brief tragedy, " brief in act, infinite 
and everlasting in blessing," of which this ordinance is 
the appropriate and Significant commemoration. It 
speaks through the senses to the soul. It makes the 
distant to be near, the old to be new, and converts a fa- 
miliar fact into a living power in the heart and conscience. 
We all need the influence that flows from this u showing 
forth of the Lord's death." You, my friends, whom I 
meet with pleasure and satisfaction in all the social walks 
of life, in whose houses I am welcomed with an affec- 
tionate respect and confidence that I gladly reciprocate, 
whom I behold here every Sunday, uniting with exem- 
plary regularity in these services of prayer and praise, 



FALSE SHAME AND TRUE GLORY. 



355 



instruction and worship, but whom I do not see around 
the table of commemoration, where, for your own sakes 
and for ours, I should rejoice to meet and welcome you, 
— you need it. It would strengthen and comfort, it would 
guide and guard, it would refresh and sanctify, it would 
inspire your souls with a more than mortal energy to 
tread the narrow and rugged path of duty with firm and 
unfaltering step. Ask your hearts why it is that, meet- 
ing everywhere else, we meet not here in this rite, so in- 
teresting, so impressive, so instructive. Determine that 
question only after the most thorough and searching ex- 
amination ; and if conscience intimate, by the faintest 
whisper, that you are ashamed of the Gospel, that you 
are unwilling to acknowledge before the world that deep 
interest in religion which in your innermost soul you do 
feel, and cannot but feel, strive to dismiss the unworthy- 
sentiment. Be not ashamed to appear, be not afraid to 
profess, to be religious. 

Of what, let me ask, are you ashamed, of what are 
you afraid ? Do you fear that baseless opinion enter- 
tained by some, that a deep personal interest in religion 
is a proof of intellectual weakness, an evidence of a de- 
fective understanding, of a narrow and limited mind ? 
Nothing can be more false or more absurd than this idea. 
No great mind ever admitted it, because every really 
great mind is and has been religious. Indifference to 
religion, insensibility to the immortal interests of the soul, 
can claim no alliance with high thought, with intellectual 
greatness, with profound reflection. The rare excep- 
tions which infidelity can produce only go to confirm the 
fact, which all history and biography prove and illustrate, 
that the most eminent men — those most distinguished for 
their genius and learning, for the gigantic grandeur of 



356 



FALSE SHAME AND TRUE GLORY. 



their intellects, the vastness of their mental acquisitions, 
and the important influence they have exercised upon the 
world — have heen religious men, have cherished in 
their hearts, professed with their lips, and often glorious- 
ly exemplified in their characters, a deep religious faith, 
an intense religious feeling. 

Of what are you ashamed, of what are you afraid ? 
Do you fear the laugh of the scoffer, the sneer of the 
profane, the ridicule of the weak and wicked ? Alas ! 
it is a sad thought, that all things are susceptible of ridi- 
cule just in proportion to their dignity and grandeur. Re- 
ligion, — the noblest and the grandest thing on earth, the 
only thing that gives real dignity and grandeur to man, 
" changing the worm into the seraph," — religion is con- 
sequently of all things the most susceptible of ridicule. 
Impiety and skepticism find in this the great instrument 
with which to smother and suppress in thousands of 
hearts the most ennobling thoughts, the most solemn and 
elevating aspirations. 

Brethren, remember that nothing is easier than to 
convert this ridicule into respect, unless it be to increase 
the number and the venom of its shafts by exhibiting a 
susceptibility to be wounded by them. The sneer of 
ridicule will be more bitter and frequent, if it have 
power to penetrate your heart and hold in bondage your 
conscience ; let it be unheeded, and it recoils with de- 
structive force upon him who utters it. There is noth- 
ing on earth so respectable, or that men feel so com- 
pelled to respect, as genuine and sincere religion, — a 
religion that is neither superstitious nor fanatical, neither 
canting and boastful nor timid and timeserving, nei- 
ther the cloak of selfishness nor instrument of ambition, 
but the offering of the heart, the rule of the life, the all- 



FALSE SHAME AND TRUE GLORY. 



pervading element of the character. Cultivate and ex- 
hibit such a religion, confess Christ before the world, not 
with the ostentation of a Pharisee, but with the modest 
firmness of a true disciple; be willing to say to the 
world, and to say it decidedly, that you are and mean to 
be religious ; that, conscious of the weakness and frailty 
of your nature, of the peril and the temptation of life, 
you feel your need of the aid, and are seeking the pro- 
tection and mercy, of the great God of the universe ; 
that you believe in the Messiah whom he has sent to be 
a Mediator and Redeemer, through faith in whom you 
have an immortal hope and are preparing for another 
world more blessed and glorious than this. Do this 
modestly, yet firmly, with a thorough, genuine purpose 
of heart, and they who were disposed to sneer shall be 
the first to honor your courage, and respect your fidelity, 
and to put confidence in your character ; and in that 
great and perilous season, when the secrets of all hearts 
are to be judged and the issues of life awarded, Christ 
shall confess you before the Father in heaven. 

But why confess Christ in this manner ? Why make 
an open, public religious profession at the table of com- 
memoration ? If the Gospel be dear to our hearts, if its 
hopes impart comfort in the hour of sorrow, and its 
truths guidance amid the intricacies of duty, of what im- 
portance are the opinions which the world may form of 
us, of what consequence is it whether others know that 
we are religious or not : Is not religion a strictly per- 
sonal matter ? The answer is obvious. It is our dutv, 
not only to be religious, but to be religious in such a 
manner as shall help to make others religious. We are 
bound to aid in sustaining the faith of the Gospel, that it 
may appear honorable among men, that the timid may 



358 FALSE SHAME AND TRUE GLORY. 



have courage to profess it, that the wavering and irreso- 
lute may perceive the firmness and loftiness of character 
which genuine piety inspires, and be induced to drink at 
the same fountain of living waters. 

In one of its aspects, religion is, undoubtedly, a strict- 
ly private and personal thing, having its altar and its 
holy of holies in the heart, never to be profaned by ex- 
posure to the public gaze. In this aspect the Apostle 
speaks of it, when he says, — u Your life is hid with 
Christ in God " ; that is, the seat of religion is in the 
heart ; there lies its hidden root and power, and thence, 
like the physical heart, quietly, silently, irresistibly, it 
sends the life-blood of a quickening faith and a practical 
godliness throughout the whole being. But there is an- 
other aspect, in which religion is a social, public con- 
cern, a matter in which the community is interested, in 
respect to which we hold relations to our fellow-beings 
as well as to God, and are bound to honor it openly, to 
uphold it strenuously, to profess it publicly. Our Sav- 
iour speaks of it in this aspect, when he says, — " Let 
your light so shine before others that they, seeing your 
good works, may glorify your Father which is in heav- 
en." These words enjoin a solemn duty. They make 
it obligatory upon us to set a good example, and to put 
the weight of our influence, openly, decidedly, unequiv- 
ocally, upon the side of religious truth and virtue. Un- 
less we do this, our hearts are not right. Religion does 
not reign in them with supreme power, it does not im- 
part its richest comforts, or exercise a controlling influ- 
ence, so long as, from any worldly motive, any feeling 
of timidity or shame, we shrink from an open, manly, 
meek, but decided avowal of our religious convictions ; 
a clear expression of the fact, that we wish to be, that 



FALSE SHAME AND TRUE GLORY. 



359 



we are using all the appointed means and aids to become, 
truly devout, 

I advocate not a religion of display. It is of all 
kinds of display the most offensive and repulsive. I 
advocate not a religion tinged with arrogance and self- 
conceit, and whose outward manifestations seem to say 
continually, — " Behold my zeal for the Lord. See 
how much I love him, and how faithfully I serve him. 
There are few in this world so good as I am." But I 
do advocate a religion so conscious of its own dignity as 
to be superior to all influences of worldly fear or favor ; 
too meek to obtrude, too firm ever to shrink from, its 
honest convictions of duty and right ; prompt on all oc- 
casions to obey conscience and maintain holiness, and 
exhibit the fruits of a deep and serious piety, — a relig- 
ion never presumptuous and pretending, yet never timid 
and seeking concealment. Such a religion is truly Chris- 
tian, corresponding to the character and instructions of 
that Master, who has never required of us to be so hum- 
ble as to yield up the dictates of conscience and the ho- 
liest feelings of the heart to the fear of ridicule and the 
sneers of the worldly, but, teaching us in all things to be 
meek like him, has also taught us to be firm and true 
like him. 

That Master has said, — " Whosoever shall confess 
me before men, him will I confess before my Father which 
is in heaven ; but whosoever shall deny me before men, 
him will I deny before my Father which is in heaven." 
There is a solemn meaning in these words. The broad, 
general application that is to be made of them embraces 
this ordinance, as well as all other modes in which we can 
confess Christ before the world. Let them have more 
power over you than the fear of man. See that you 



360 FALSE SHAME AND TRUE GLORY. 



confess Christ here, after the manner of his appointment. 
Say not that you have no need of this ordinance, that 
you can do without it, that there is little efficacy in it, 
little importance to be attached to it. Observe it before 
you adopt this conclusion, and when you have observed 
it, you will never adopt it. I have seen many a tear 
shed, and have heard many a bitter and unavailing regret 
expressed, for its neglect ; but I never yet heard a 
murmur of penitence for its observance, or found any one 
ready to confess its inefficacy or to admit that it gave 
no guidance or comfort, strength or peace. It gives a 
large measure of these. There have been eloquent 
words uttered in this pulpit in years long gone by. No- 
ble and saintly men, rich in the highest gifts, full of 
the inspiration of genius and the fervor of piety, have 
stood here, and their lips seemed touched with living fire 
from the altar of God, and they felt the majesty of truth, 
and uttered it with all the earnestness of conviction and 
in thrilling and persuasive tones ; yet I believe that the 
mightiest words that ever fell from mortal lips in this 
desk were powerless in comparison with the strong ap- 
peals which this ordinance makes to the heart and con- 
science, and the quickening, invigorating, sanctifying in- 
fluence it carries down into the depths of the soul of him 
who observes it in sincerity and truth. Men have come 
up hither in their sin and sorrow, weak and wearied from 
the moral conflict of life, their hearts fainting within. 
Kind words and soothing words were spoken to them. 
Language full of tender sympathy, and wise counsel, and 
earnest admonition was uttered, and it had its effect ; 
but not till they had gathered around this table of com- 
memoration, not till they had partaken of these symbols 
of the great sacrifice, these tokens of the love divine 



FALSE SHAME AND TRUE GLORY. 



361 



and stronger than death, — not till then were they fully 
comforted and strengthened, not till then did their hearts 
burn within them with the sweet conviction of pardon 
and peace. 

Be not, therefore, ashamed to use what Christ's wis- 
dom appointed and God's blessing maketh effectual to 
your virtue. Come to the table of commemoration, not 
hastily, not irreverently, but with a serious and settled 
purpose, in holy faith and deep humility, and you shall 
find in it a blessed fulfilment of the Apostle's declaration, 
— "I can do all things through Christ strengthening 
me." 



31 



SERMON XXX. 



BY CYRUS A. BARTOL. 



THE SAVIOUR'S JOY. 

THESE THINGS HAVE I SPOKEN UNTO YOU, THAT MY JOY MIGHT 
REMAIN IN YOU, AND THAT YOUR JOY MIGHT BE FULL. — John 
XV. 11. 

The Saviour's joy ! The great burden of religious 
thought, exhortation, controversy, has been the Saviour's 
grief and agony, and the moral significance of his suf- 
ferings. His image in the Christian's heart has borne the 
aspect of pain, — the stretched limbs, the bowed or 
helplessly swaying head. And many a Christian might 
be surprised that any other aspect should be presented. 

What, speak of his joy, who was friendless, homeless, 
persecuted, crucified ! Yes, the Saviour's joy is my 
subject. Perhaps reflection may convince us that a too 
exclusive attention has often been given to the unhappy 
circumstances of his lot. Let us attempt to throw a 
single beam of light on that part of the picture so fre- 
quently kept in the background. 

And, first, it is natural to remark that he was not ut- 
terly excluded from common, daily joy. He turned water 
into wine, and himself joined in the marriage festival, at 
Cana of Galilee. Doing the greatest work ever intrusted 



THE SAVIOUR S JOT. 



363 



to human hands, he yet smiled under the burden. 
Though he walked in the wilderness, yet was not sweet 
nature robbed of her richness and grace, for he delight- 
ed more in the lilies of the field than in all the glory 
of Solomon. 

Nothing, indeed, is more observable in Christ, than the 
cheerfulness, and, if we may so speak, healthiness of his 
mind, — the ease with which he partook of the fortunes 
of those with whom he found himself, the freedom with 
which he miDgled in social life. Still, it must be con- 
fessed that these joys sometimes failed. Those outer 
cisterns of the soul, in which we catch the rain of com- 
mon blessings, were, indeed, with him sometimes ex- 
hausted, and utterly broken at last. But we are not 
obliged to trust for refreshing waters entirely to what 
may drop from the eaves of our dwelling. There are 
fountains in the earth's heart, and their sweet streams 
spring up to make the most desolate wilderness blossom 
as the rose. So, too, there are fountains deep sunk in 
the heart of man, that revive him with richest draughts, 
when the world may judge he is scorched to the centre 
by pain and persecution. 

So was it with the Saviour of the world. Let us 
speak of some of these exhaustless sources in his mind. 
He was a homeless wanderer ; but beneath this sorrow, 
a joy lay hid in his heart. It was the joy of beholding, 
in the distance of futurity, the time when he should 
dwell among a great company of friends and kindred, 
in the noblest temples which humanity could rear to bis 
honor. He could bear to be houseless, in anticipation 
of the vast abode which, firm as the tc earth's base," 
age after age should for ever rear and widen. Again, 
Jesus suffered persecution. Wherever he went, the 



364 



THE SAVIOUR'S JOY. 



shadow of the cross fell athwart his path. But beneath 
this sorrow also, a joy lay hid in his heart. He knew 
this was not to be the end. He knew the cross would 
not always be the mark of withering scorn, the symbol 
of the whole world's contempt. He knew the hammer 
would not always be heard driving it with nails through 
the quivering flesh of the malefactor. He knew it would 
not for ever flow with the blood of infamy. In spiritual 
foresight, he beheld that millions would come to u bow 
before it, as if it were a shrine of the Divinity." 

But all of these deep, spiritual joys, which we speak 
of as distinguishing the Saviour, were not borrowed 
from his future glory. He drew deeply from sources 
already open and freely flowing. He had great present 
joys. One of these was his love of mankind. He 
showed the sentiment in its universal character. Friends 
and foes, countrymen and aliens, kindred and strangers, 
— the arms of his affection gathered them all into one 
large embrace. Well might Jesus be born in a manger, 
which was no man's particular home ; for the w T hole earth 
seemed his birthplace, and all human beings the mem- 
bers of his household. 

But our Saviour's love was not a vague philanthropy, 
caring for all men in general, but for no one in partic- 
ular. There are those, whose love of the human race 
seems consistent with intolerance and hatred to individ- 
uals. So was it not with the Saviour. He had affec- 
tion to bestow, and sensibility to expend, on the humblest 
creature he found by the way-side. The affection of 
Jesus was also impartial. We might think he would 
weakly dote on one in preference to another, — upon John, 
for instance, the disciple whom he loved, and who lay 
in his bosom. But no ; warm as was his human heart, 



THE SAVIOUR'S JOY. 



365 



yet his divine affection flowed in one sober current 
round the whole table of communion. u Ye are my 
friends if ye do whatsoever I command you." More- 
over, the Saviour's love was enduring. Our affections 
are often misdirected and lawless, and therefore they are 
so often wounded and mortified. But the Saviour's 
were calm and true ; fixed on that in the soul which is 
lofty and abiding, earth's fiery darts could not reach 
them. 

Such was the Saviour's love for humanity, universal, 
individual, impartial, immortal. Was not such love a 
great joy ? Is it a joy to you to love your parent, your 
child, the partner of your life ? and a greater joy as you 
love them more generously and purely ? Does the joy 
of this love make you happy in labor and peril, in the 
beating of the elements, and even in the unkindness of 
wicked foes ? Multiply, then, and widen your own con- 
sciousness in this matter, till it shall reach the feeling 
that swelled the Saviour's bosom. Conceive of him as 
loving many more intensely than you love one, and 
then decide whether his affections were not one of 
his joys. 

- Another of the Saviour's joys was his piety to God. 
With some persons communion with the Infinite seems 
narrowed down to a mere asking for some particular 
blessing, and its whole efficacy comprised in receiving 
that blessing. Such minds would understand no more 
the joy of prayer than the delights of penance. In- 
deed, it is to be feared that Christians generally do not 
apprehend strongly as they ought the bliss of true de- 
votion. We speak almost in the tone of compassion of 
our Lord's spending the whole night communing with 
God. But could we, with a clear discernment, see 
31 * 



366 



THE SAVIOUR'S JOY. 



his soul at such seasons, as full of transport as a calm 
soul can be, we should not weep over his lonely pros- 
trations. 

" Cold mountains, and the midnight air, 
Witnessed the fervor of his prayer." 

But they witnessed a rapture, also, almost too vast for 
the over-arching sky to give it free ascent unto God. 
A certain astronomer could gaze the whole night, un- 
conscious of time's passage, at a remarkable phenom- 
enon in the heavens ; and shall we wonder that the vis- 
ion of God could so entrance the soul of his only be- 
gotten Son ? The vision of God ! the full beamings 
of intellectual light, the disclosed image of all-perfect 
beauty, the unshadowed idea of spotless holiness, the 
streaming fount of everlasting love ! Who will attempt 
to describe such joy ? Who will not bow down and 
confess himself weak and miserable in comparison with 
him to whom the spirit of such felicity was given u with- 
out measure " ? 

I will mention but one other of the Saviour's joys, — 
his consciousness of his own immortality. He does not 
so much seem to feel that he was to enter on a fresh 
existence beyond the grave, as that he already had eter- 
nal life. Immortality was his possession rather than his 
hope. In the same breath he speaks of glorifying God 
on the earth, and of the glory he had with him " be- 
fore the world was." And how simple, yet sublime, 
the language in which he spoke to his Father of his ap- 
proaching departure from this world ! " And now come 
I to thee." What a grandeur does this reveal in our 
Lord's vjew of existence ! Life with him was not a 
contracted space, marked with such boundaries as the 
cradle at one end, and the tombstone at the other, with 



THE SAVIOUR'S JOY. 



367 



the blue sky bending and the light clouds spreading 
between. No binding cope above, no narrow arc around, 
gave limit to his views and hopes. He stood as on a 
narrow passage-way, with the Infinite and Eternal be- 
hind and before him ; and, to his inward eye, the great 
globe itself must have fled away, and appeared as a dim 
point in the depths of immensity. 

And can it be questioned that this consciousness of 
immortal life, of entire superiority to change, to acci- 
dent, and death, was one of the Saviour's joys ? Hu- 
man language cannot set it forth. Human conception 
cannot fully embrace it. Human character has never 
reached such a height, as very largely to share it. No 
earthly calamity could break into the depths of so divine 
a joy. 

How small and pitiful, in view of such things, seems 
the triumph of the Saviour's enemies around his cross, 
and how do we learn to look on the Saviour's agony 
unmindful of our own tears ! They had, it is true, 
something like triumph for a short time ; what with the 
sympathy of the crowd, the glittering ensigns of power, 
and the violence of armed men, joined with their own 
vengeful shouts and eager thirst for blood, they had, no 
doubt, a season of insane delight. But the tumult was 
soon hushed. The sun rose again on the scene of 
slaughter, and the pomp of execution had rolled away. 
While the earth was drinking up the blood of innocence, 
the reflections of the night had calmed their turbulent 
rage. And as they revisit the scene of their dreadful 
crime, in morning's cool and noiseless air, they see only 
the uneven prints of angry feet, the blood-stained tree, 
from which the body had been removed, with perhaps 
some remnant of the robe of scorn, or forgotten instru- 



368 



THE SAVIOUR'S JOY. 



merit of torture, unless, perchance, lifting their eyes, 
they behold a rock that had been rent, or grave opened, 
when Jesus, having u cried again with a loud voice, 
yielded up the ghost." 

O, how torturing at this moment the memory of their 
guilt ! How must their own horrible imprecation have 
commenced its fulfilment, — " His blood be on us and on 
our children " ! But while retribution thus already be- 
gan to wave for them her scourge, dipped in the gore 
they had shed, what, O, what, on the far heights of the 
heavenly region, must have been the Saviour's joy ! 

Our subject gives us two lessons. One for the Chris- 
tian, the other for the unbelieving man of the world. 

First, it gives a lesson for the Christian. The Saviour 
does not speak of his joy as something necessarily con- 
fined to his own breast. u These things have I spoken 
unto you that my joy might remain in you, and that 
your joy might be full." The true Christian, then, is a 
happy man, as Christ was happy. No word is strong 
enough to describe his happiness but the word joy. 

Wonder not that he is cheerful. He that feels him- 
self immortal, a follower of Jesus, and communicant 
with God, has a right to be cheerful if any body has. 
An unhappy temper proves a wrong state of the heart, 
a state not in sympathy with the Saviour's spirit. And 
here is the lesson. The incorrect view of the Saviour's 
earthly lot, alluded to in the* introduction of this dis- 
course, is not simply a theoretical view. It has gone 
with a sad and fatal energy into practice. Men have 
thought they could not be the followers of Jesus, with- 
out first making themselves miserable. So we are 
informed abundantly in the history of the church. 
Witness the cold water and dry roots of the anchorite, 



THE SAVIOUR'S JOY. 



369 



his sharing with the wild beasts their dwellings, his vol- 
untary exposures to heat, and cold, and storm, his self- 
scourgings, his wearing of chains and bands till the liv- 
ing flesh has grown over them. Things so monstrous 
may not exist among ourselves, but the spirit of the old 
error and superstition is not extinct. There are many 
yet who seem to think religion consists, not in being 
bravely nerved for present duty, and pressing on with 
exhilarated will to future achievements, but in being ever 
burdened with sad memories of the past, pouring out 
extravagant confessions, and beholding nothing around 
them but guilt and misery. The earth is clad in mourn- 
ing to them. The sun rises in darkness and sets in 
blood. These characters sometimes become fanatical, 
and sometimes fall the pitiable victims of insanity. And 
even when they retain the health of their minds, they 
are both miserable themselves, and the cause of misery 
to their friends. They are ever thrusting gloomy fan- 
cies and solemn forebodings into the midst of life's com- 
mon labors and wholesome recreations, till at length 
they are avoided by those they seek, and bring reproach 
on the cause of religion in the world. 

How sadly they mistake their Saviour's example and 
violate his spirit ! He mingled religion with all things, 
it is true, but with what freedom from formality or 
sanctimony, in what consistency with his joy ! 

Our subject also gives a lesson for the unbelieving 
man of the world. 

Many think they gain greatly, for this world at least, 
by getting rid of every thing in the shape of religion, 
because it is something so dark, austere, and morose. 
Let such persons understand their grievous mistake. 
Let them be well aware that the bargains they drive, 



370 



THE SAVIOUR'S JOY. 



the exchanges they negotiate, in this temper and tone, 
are bringing them to ruin, as well as to shame. Let 
them clearly see that they are bartering the birthright of 
more than earthly felicity, for the mess of bitter herbs. 
O, let us strive to recall them from the dark vales and 
poisonous streams of sinful indulgence, by revealing in 
its heavenly lustre the Sun of the Saviour's joy ! 

Finally, my friends, let me ask, have you the Sav- 
iour's joy ? Alas ! the melancholy thought comes 
darkling over my mind, that there may be some whose 
situation is exactly the reverse of his ; who, instead of 
having outward suffering and inward joy, find all their 
delights to be outward, while their secret heart, though 
it beat beneath golden vesture, rankles with many a 
wound. What matters it that the gay throng presses 
about you, that mirthful sounds fill your ear, and varied 
splendors flash upon your eye ? Confess ! — in your pres- 
ent state is not the throng itself a solitude ? Ts not the 
mirth a heaviness ? Is not pompous show a very cheat, 
whose thin tinsel glitters but to hide its utter hollow- 
ness ? We may call the proud happy, and they may 
be pleased with the sound of adulation ; but as they 
taste the extract of gall condensed upon their lips, from 
guilty recollection and remorse, must they not at the 
confessional of their own hearts acknowledge the false- 
ness of our judgment ? 

And one word let me say to those whose outward 
fortune is severe. Do you complain of your hard lot ? 
And would you, then, refuse to walk the same path which 
was trodden by the Son of God ? Brethren, if you 
have his sufferings only, I do not blame you for being 
unwilling. I find no fault with the burning words that 
express your misery, nor even with the paleness and 



THE SAVIOUR'S JOY. 



371 



stillness that mark your despair. But I say to you, and 
may the spirit of all grace bear the words even to the 
piercing of your souls, you may have the Saviour's joy. 
He himself offers it to you, — his own divine, eternal joy. 
In his exceeding compassion he entreats you to accept 
it. Listen to his invitation, and the words thereof you 
shall not find vain, — u Come unto me, all ye that labor 
and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." 



SERMON XXXI. 



BY ARTEMAS B. MUZZEY. 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 

THAT THEY ALL MAY BE ONE. John Xvti. 21. 

These words were among the fervent supplications 
offered by our Saviour in his last prayer for his disci- 
ples. As his mind was brooding over the eventful 
future, he saw that their situation would expose them 
continually, not only to persecutions and enmities from 
abroad, but to dissensions, coldness, and alienations 
among themselves. Touched by this prospect, he lift- 
ed up his soul to the Father, and uttered an earnest 
petition for the unity of his disciples. It is usual to 
suppose that he referred to differences of religious be- 
lief, as an evil to be feared and deprecated. It is 
thought that he regarded unity of opinion on all points 
as most important, if not essential, to the establishment 
of his kingdom upon earth. The Catholic maintains, 
that, from the hour when the keys were given to St. 
Peter down to this day, his church has been so united ; 
that it has held exclusive possession of the truth, and 
is, on this account, the true church ; and hence, that 
the slightest departure from its doctrines is disloyalty 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



373 



to Christ and a fatal error. There are other denomi- 
nations who call themselves the true church, on the 
ground that their articles of faith embody the entire and 
essential doctrine of the Gospel. They believe the 
time will come when the whole Christian world will bow 
to their standard, and be precisely of their creed. 

But was this the event to which our Saviour referred 
when he prayed that his disciples might " all be one " ? 
Is it reasonable to anticipate such a consummation I 
Will the period at length arrive in which we shall 
agree perfectly in our theological speculations ? I can- 
not believe that it will. We are taught, I must think r 
by our Saviour himself, that it is unity of spirit, oneness 
of heart, a communion in worship, and a fellowship in 
the great works of philanthropy, not an identity of spec- 
ulative opinions, for which he prayed, and to which we 
should aspire. 

Let it be premised, however, that by the phrase "unity 
of opinion" I mean unity on all minor points of belief, in 
every article which belongs to the thousand creeds and 
formularies set forth as essential, each for itself, by the 
various denominations and sects of Christendom. In 
nearly, if not quite, all that is fundamental, we do now 
agree. Every church believes in a God, the Creator of 
the universe, the Father of mankind, and in his paternal, 
never-sleeping providence. All believe in Jesus Christ, 
and regard him as the Saviour of the world, reconciling 
men to themselves and to their God and Father. All 
believe in man's immortality, and that we are moral and 
accountable beings, destined to reap as we sow. Thus 
far we are one now ; in all these vital and saving 
truths we are perfectly united. But here we part ; the 
trunk is undivided, — its roots send up life and health 
32 



374 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



into this one body. Rise above the trunk, and imme- 
diately division commences. First we have branches, 
schisms, an Eastern and a Western church, a Catholic 
and a Protestant ; then we have boughs, sects, spreading 
forth and differing more and more widely from each 
other ; and lastly come the slender twigs, subdivisions 
innumerable, bearing clusters of blossoms that terminate 
in single and separate fruitlets. 

I. Now these divisions on matters of opinion are not 
likely, I believe, at any future period whatever, to come 
to an end. There are causes deep laid in our nature, 
and in the nature of things, which must prevent such an 
issue. 

1. The progress of society is unfriendly to an entire 
union in theological speculations. In periods of igno- 
rance and barbarism, there are comparatively few varie- 
ties of doctrinal belief. But in an age like the present, 
marked by a growing civilization, intelligence, and cul- 
ture, the mind indulges itself in the utmost diversities of 
speculation on the subject of religion, as on all other 
subjects. We see the Christian sects accordingly mul- 
tiply around us. If old names are retained, old opinions 
are not ; a spirit of innovation trenches daily, here a lit- 
tle and there a little, on the accepted creeds and sys- 
tems of faith. Sometimes an open rupture takes place, 
and we have Puseyism in the Church of England, the 
Old and the New School of Presbyterians, schisms among 
Methodists, and even controversies, alienation, and dis- 
memberment among the Friends. Brother parts from 
brother, and they join hands no more. 

This condition of the various denominations will doubt- 
less continue. Doctrinal opinions will probably diverge 
still more from one another. A thirst for independence 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



375 



will possess Ephraim ; Judah will indulge unwonted as- 
pirations for power ; some rigid Rehoboam will issue 
stern proclamations, to which the enlightened and free- 
spirited will refuse obedience ; and from these and ever 
fresh causes, the twelve tribes will be sundered, and Is- 
rael retain at length but a fragment of her once compact 
household. 

2. Especially does this event seem credible, when 
we consider the uniform tendency to produce it in free 
institutions. In many foreign lands, the established 
church extends the mantle of its charity with reluctance 
over all who subscribe to its articles, so boldly do some 
among them think for themselves on points of doctrine, 
ritual, or reform. The atmosphere of civil and political 
liberty must increase the disposition to speculate, and 
frame theories, and set up new landmarks, in the name 
of Christ. No people, it is found, innovate and dissent 
and divide from one another, on the subject of religion, 
as we in this country do. This comes inevitably from 
our boundless freedom. So it must always be ; we may 
not, it is true, continue to regard our distinctive points 
as important enough to part us in our worship, and hence 
religious societies may be less numerous hereafter than 
they now are ; but differences of opinion on unessential 
doctrines will doubtless increase rather than diminish. 
If true religion, love, forbearance, and charity prevail, 
as we trust and think they will, then the fellowship which 
marked the primitive church will be restored ; unity of 
spirit will return, but identity of belief never. 

We delight in the anticipation, that, one after another, 
the nations are to emancipate themselves from civil 
bondage ; and sure we may be, that with it must come 
religious freedom, and with that a growing diversity of 



376 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



doctrinal opinions. As we call up the ages before us, 
and see one and another advance to the liberty of the 
sons of God, it is to us no cause of sorrow that they will 
manifest more and more independence in the interpreta- 
tion of the Scriptures, and in the views they will draw 
from them. No, believing rather, as we do, that knowl- 
edge tendeth to charity, we welcome the prospect. We 
see them, the generations to come, as they rise to their 
spiritual labors, a host that no man can number, mar- 
shalled under that glorious banner, inscribed " Light and 
Love," conquering, under the Prince of Peace, foe after 
foe, intellectually, morally, and spiritually, varying in 
opinion, yet none the less emulating each other in the 
noble strife of love and good works. 

A perfect unity of belief is incompatible, we observe 
next, with the nature of the human mind. Every one, 
when his thoughts move freely, pursues a course of spec- 
ulation more or less peculiar to himself on questions 
where diversity is possible ; and such are all moral ques- 
tions. On these questions we cannot precisely agree ; 
not a day passes in which any two individuals have not 
more or less difference in their views of right and wrong. 
On the many political subjects which agitate this com- 
munity, how very few, even in the same party, do in 
their secret hearts think exactly alike ! On the great 
topics of political economy and civil polity, how various 
are men's opinions ! There is no subject, indeed, 
touching business or recreation, duty, culture, interest, 
honor, or merit, which we do not daily discuss, and on 
wmich we do not continually dissent from one another. 

Now why should we not differ also in regard to the 
speculative truths of religion ? Is it a less difficult task 
to form an opinion on this than on secular concerns ? 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 377 

Nay, is there rather any theme on which mortal man is 
so often and so sadly perplexed as on this ? Multitudes 
have 

" Reasoned high 
Of providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate, 
Fixed fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute ; 
And found no end, in wandering mazes lost." 

Such, indeed, is the intrinsic abstruseness of theology, 
that, when large denominations profess to believe, article 
for article, precisely 'alike, they either do not think at 
all on the subject, or they deceive others, or deceive 
themselves, at best, by the profession they make. Be 
sure that any number of men really use their understand- 
ing in the case, and they can no more interpret every 
passage of Scripture — no, nor every event of Provi- 
dence, or all the teachings of Nature — exactly alike, 
than they can create a world. 

II. The Bible itself, I now remark, nowhere incul- 
cates entire unity of opinion as essential among the fol- 
lowers of Christ. If we look at the prophecies of the 
Psalmist, of Isaiah, of Daniel, and others, which speak 
of a future union and peacefulness on earth, we find they 
have no reference to a unity of opinion ; they relate ex- 
clusively to the general spirit »which would be diffused 
by the coming of Christ, and predict that, so far as that 
spirit prevailed, all men would become one, — Jew and 
Gentile, Greek and Roman, bond and free, high and 
low, rich and poor, all would be one in Christ. There 
would be diversities of belief, but one heart, — many 
altars and many names, yet no envying, bitterness, or 
strife ; every church and every individual would be 
bathed in and vivified by a sea of love. 

The nature of the union intended by our Saviour may 
32* 



378 CHRISTIAN UNION. 

t 

be learned from his own exposition of it ; — u As thou, 
Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be 
one in us." Now in what sense was God in Christ, and 
he in him ? It could not be that they were one in knowl- 
edge ; our Saviour himself denied that he was omniscient, 
like God. The Father, he affirmed, knew all things ; 
there were some things which the Son did not know. 
It was not, then, unity of belief he referred to. It could 
not have been, even if Christ was omniscient; for we 
are not so, and he calls us to be one with him as he was 
one with the Father, that is, in such a manner as we could 
be one with him and God. Jesus interpreted his own 
words at the close of his prayer, — " that the love where- 
with thou hast loved me may be in them, and I in them." 
Here is a ground on which we can unite even with God 
himself. His spirit, — love to all mankind, forbearance, 
good-will, gentle and generous deeds, — of these we are 
all capable. Our opinions may differ earth-wide from 
each other, while our hearts are one. This is the true 
millennium, the aspiration of saints through the elder cove- 
nant foreseen in the Apocalyptic vision, the aim and end 
of every true heir of that dispensation which is new and 
everlasting. 

The spirit of the Saviour was always liberal and free ; 
its language was, — " Why even of yourselves judge ye 
not what is right ? " There was one doctrine, it is true, 
in which he required all to unite. They must believe 
that " Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God " ; beyond 
that, nothing was laid down as of fundamental impor- 
tance. He forbade his disciples to receive one from any 
other creed, to take for doctrines the commandments of 
men. Every individual was enjoined to " search the 
Scriptures," and form his own opinions in relation to 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



379 



God and duty, and to allow the same generous liberty to 
every one who took the name of Christ. 

Turn now to the Apostles ; their instruction on this 
subject is summed up in this one sentence, — " Be- 
lieve in the Lord Jesus, and thou shalt be saved." The 
utmost freedom of opinion beyond this is everywhere 
allowed and encouraged by them. They differed, in- 
deed, among themselves ; Peter and Paul had a warm 
controversy, and Paul and Barnabas at one time sepa- 
rated from each other. When his Corinthian converts 
were departing from Christ, to follow human guides, 
Paul boldly rebuked them, but not for a variance of be- 
lief ; " envyings, and strife, and divisions " are the sins 
he speaks of. We find no reproof because they thought 
not alike on debatable, unimportant points. He censures 
only "a contentious spirit," — their separating from, 
and treating with harshness, those who dissented from 
their views. Whom did Paul bid them mark ? Those 
who differed from them merely in opinion ? " Mark," 
said he, " those that cause divisions and offences," that 
is, sins, "among you." He exhorts his converts to 
u prove all things," and " every man to be fully per- 
suaded in his own mind " ; a course which must lead to 
a diversity of opinions on unessential points. 

In all this Apostle has written concerning " here- 
sies," the intelligent reader perceives that by a heretic 
he means, not one who differs from the majority in doc- 
trinal belief, but one who occasions strife and unchris- 
tian feelings between brother and brother. u One of 
Paul's favorite notions of heresy," says Arnold, " is a 
1 doting about strifes of words.' One side may be right, 
in such a strife, and the other wrong, but both are he- 
retical as to Christianity, because they lead men's minds 



380 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



away from the love of God and of Christ, to questions 
essentially tempting to the intellect, and which tend to 
no profit towards godliness." And again, — " I think 
you will find that all the ' false doctrines ' spoken of by 
the Apostles are doctrines of sheer wickedness, — that 
their counterpart is to be found in those who make 
Christianity minister to lust,, or to covetousness, or to 
ambition ; not in those who interpret Scripture to the 
best of their conscience and ability, be their interpreta- 
tion ever so erroneous." When Peter warns the church 
against false teachers, it is their corrupt motives he most 
loudly censures. John denounces the " Antichrist " who 
shall come ; but it is a deceiver, one whose heart is im- 
pure ; he expressly terms him a liar." 

So is it that the Apostles join with their Master, 
when he prayed that they all might be one, in making 
this unity consist in mutual kindness and forbearance. 
They, like hirn, would that good offices be performed 
towards all believers, whether they agree or disagree in 
opinion with ourselves ; their prayer is, that the hearts 
of their converts may be knit together in love ; their 
steady aim and their unremitted endeavour is "to keep 
the unity of spirit in the bond of peace." 

I remark, in passing, that a service in the sanctuary, 
conducted on this broad principle, would accord beauti- 
fully with the temper of Christianity ; it would be con- 
genial with those great doctrines which it makes promi- 
nent and essential. What is the creed of the New Tes- 
tament ? So brief and so simple that all may subscribe 
to it, and yet so comprehensive that any worshipper can 
find in it truths ct able to make him wise unto salvation." 
Were it abstruse and complex, then it would raise bar- 
riers in our houses of worship, and they only who be- 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



381 



lieved, article for article, alike could mingle at one altar. 
But how few are those truths which the New Testament 
erects as pillars of an acceptable service and a Christian 
life ! There is one God ; he is the moral Governor of 
this world ; his providence is over all his works ; he is 
our Judge, and yet he is our Father, full of compassion 
to the penitent, and yearning towards us with unwearied 
patience, forbearance, forgiveness, and love. Jesus 
Christ is the Saviour of all who receive him as the Son 
of God, and who through his life, his sacrifices, and his 
death on the cross are brought nigh unto God, brought 
to repent of their sins, born of the spirit, and led into 
the life of Christ. Man is a moral, spiritual, immortal, 
and accountable being, destined through all ages to u re- 
ceive according to the deeds done in his body." Who 
could not unite with his brother in a service based upon 
these few and simple truths ? 

III. But we still hear the wish frequently expressed, 
— " O that there were but one path to heaven, one 
church and one doctrine for all ! " What a blessed 
state this would be ! Now if this be a prayer for har- 
mony of temper and mutual good-will, we heartily re- 
spond to it. But that is not all usually intended, I 
think, by this and similar language. It is imagined, that, 
could we all believe, article for article, in the same doc- 
trinal tenets, the golden age would return upon earth. 

Would it indeed be so ? We forget, in taking this 
ground, the benefits of theological discussion in awaken- 
ing a spirit of inquiry, in clearing up our views of divine 
truth, and enlarging our mental horizon. We lose sight 
of the measureless good that springs from the Reforma- 
tion under WicklifFe, Luther, Knox, and Zwingle ; we 
forget that rational Christianity owes its life-breath, both 



382 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



in this country and abroad, to religious controversy. 
We are insensible, too, of the value of that spirit of 
watchfulness which is fostered by the division of the 
church into various denominations, by which each is 
made more circumspect as a body ; the Bible is search- 
ed more faithfully by all ; and, though the motive is not 
the highest, yet it still exerts a vast influence over in- 
dividuals, — our personal character is made better by 
this sleepless vigilance of our neighbour. 

We are admonished by the experience of past ages, 
that periods of the greatest unanimity of belief have not 
been those when vital, practical religion has most flour- 
ished. Take your stand in almost any period between 
the sixth and sixteenth centuries ; you see the Church 
of Rome in the fulness of her strength, uttering her un- 
resisted mandates over nearly the whole civilized world. 
Look now at her internal condition ; her adherents are 
all of one mind, scarcely a whisper of dissent can be 
heard. But this unity of belief, instead of purifying her 
worshippers, is accompanied, the more it prevails, by 
worldliness, ambition, sensuality, and corruption. The 
din of controversy that had rung through the life of 
Alius, and subsequently between the Greek and Romish 
churches, was gradually hushed. The war-note died 
away on the battle-field, but the ranks of the victor 
were filled with more of death, a moral and spiritual 
death, than w 7 ith any true life. None questioned the de- 
crees of the Pope ; all was submission, all peace, but 
it was the peace of a midnight sleep. There prevailed 
an ignorance of the Scriptures, a profitless monastic se- 
clusion, a stagnation of social improvement, a blind de- 
votedness to forms, the worship of relics and images, 
papal indulgences, that mother of abominations, a con- 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



383 



stant accumulation of unmeaning ceremonies and as con- 
stant an increase of moral obliquities and of religious 
indifference, not to say hypocrisy. These were dark 
ages indeed, such as we trust in God will never return. 
We rejoice to bear witness to the improvement in the 
Catholic Church, both outwardly and inwardly, since the 
rise and the action upon it of the Protestant faith, and 
we can never more sigh for an entire union among Chris- 
tians in theological opinion. 

IV. Having thus shown that identity of belief is in- 
consistent with the progress of society and the preva- 
lence of free institutions, that the nature of the human 
mind forbids it, and that it is not inculcated either in the 
elder revelation or by Jesus and his Apostles, nor is 
even desirable in itself, the question now arises, What 
unity should a Christian seek, and what may we reason- 
ably anticipate ? 

I answer, it must be a practicable union. We can- 
not all think alike ; diversity is the law of nature ; no 
two pebbles on the sea-shore are precisely alike, no 
two leaves on the rose are identical in their form, color, 
and fragrance. Of the hundreds of millions of human 
faces on the globe, not even two can be found whose 
features and expression are precisely the same. Neither 
are our minds all of one structure ; that evidence which 
to one gives satisfaction, knowledge even, affords an- 
other only ground for probability, or perhaps but for 
conjecture. 

Now Christianity provides for this constitution of the 
mind by making its main purpose, not doctrinal, but 
practical. Of course, truth is essential in its place ; 
every individual must form some opinion of the char- 
acter of God, of our relations to his Son, Jesus, and 



384 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



of the nature, capacities, and duties of man. But the 
Bible does not require all men to think precisely alike 
on these topics ; on the contrary, it calls every man, in 
the spirit of candor, and looking to the Father of Lights 
for assistance, to form his own creed and give account 
of it to God alone. The great idea of the church, 
according to the New Testament, is not that of a body 
of men who believe theoretically and on all points alike ; 
it is that of a society for moral and spiritual improve- 
ment, — a society, in the language of Arnold, " for the 
purpose of making men like Christ, earth like heaven, 
the kingdoms of the world the kingdom of Christ." 

Such being the end of Christianity, it presents a 
platform on which all who receive Christ as the Son 
of God can stand together. This is the true " Evan- 
gelical Alliance." It is the unity, not of creeds, but 
of " spirit," — the only unity that ever was, or that ever 
can be, a " bond of peace." Make practical religion 
— that is, love to God and love to man — the essen- 
tial thing ; in other words, make religion, and not the- 
ology, the test of disciplesbip, and you open an avenue 
in which every denomination and every sect — that is, all 
true Christians — can walk together in fellowship. Let 
the standard of soundness be the state of the heart and 
its affections, and not that of the intellect and its spec- 
ulations, unite the followers of Christ, not by outward 
compacts, formularies, or confessions, but by inner bonds, 
a living faith and a loving life, and you at once remove 
that rock of offence against which multitudes have stum- 
bled, and by which the church of the Prince of Peace 
has been so often converted into a scene of strife, bit- 
terness, and dissensions. 

We all prize freedom of thought ; but the only con- 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



385 



dition on which the freedom of the individual can be 
reconciled with that union inculcated by Christianity is, 
that we make the life greater than the doctrine. If 
Christ's prayer that his disciples might be one shall 
be ever fulfilled, it will be, not by their unity of specula- 
tion or of intellectual perceptions, but by their unity of 
spirit. Through this method " the union only is per- 
fect," as one has well said, u when the uniters are iso- 
lated." The more enlarged and liberal the mind is, the 
more easily it harmonizes with all others. Toleration 
moves hand in hand with intellectual expansion ; he who 
is a freeman in Christ never strives, never wishes, to 
abridge the freedom of his brother. He respects, on 
the contrary, the honest non-conformer far more than the 
timid conformer. He honors manly, independent thought, 
let its conclusions be what they may. The humble, 
prayerful seeker for truth is the man he can trust, — the 
man, above all others, he loves, and would take to his 
bosom's confidence. This, if I mistake not, is the 
spirit of Christianity ; it is the root of that healthful 
tree planted by Jesus Christ, whose trunk will resist 
the storm-blasts of the ages, and whose leaves are for 
the healing of the nations. 

Let us, then, come to this conclusion, and abide by 
it, that, as on every other subject, so on that of religion, 
we must differ, more or less, one from another in our 
speculations and in the results at which we arrive. 

1. This being settled, what union remains within our 
reach ? I answer, in general terms, a unity of spirit, 
giving others the same liberty w T e ask for ourselves, — - 
never disliking another for his mere opinions, — never 
desiring any one to profess our own belief, unless he do 
it from conviction, — bidding every man God speed in 
33 



386 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



whatever faith he holds sincerely, candidly, in charity, 
and with an inquiring temper. Similarity of views is 
often the parent of friendship, it is true ; still we can 
be friends, — how often is this illustrated in politi- 
cal life ! — we can be friends, although our views are 
unlike. There is a fellowship of hearts consistent with, 
nay, often strengthened by, a diversity of opinion. We 
can hardly conceive, indeed, what a spiritless scene life 
would be, did every mind echo, thought for thought, the 
mind of its neighbour. Variety is borne upon us by the 
myriad forms and sounds and odors of creation ; variety 
runs through all history, and is the commentary of the 
checkered providences of God ; variety of evidence, 
premise, and conclusion, variety of knowledge and be- 
lief, as on all other subjects, so in that of theology, is 
the law in which we should cheerfully and lovingly ac- 
quiesce. 

2. We can be one in purpose ; every Christian may 
desire the spread of spiritual life and inward purity and 
mutual love. We can and we ought to strive by ex- 
ample and inculcation to increase in the church of Christ 
a generous consideration toward those who differ from 
us in opinion. Encourage, I would say, independent, 
honest thought, and favor a frank expression of views, by 
treating him who disagrees with you in doctrine just as 
though you thought precisely alike. Cherish a sympathy 
for all piety, all integrity, all benevolence, for every 
Christian virtue, let him who exhibits it bear what name 
he may. Do all you can to spread your own views of 
divine truth, but meantime rejoice to have Christ preach- 
ed, and his spirit disseminated, and his work carried for- 
ward, let who will perform the labor and receive the 
honor. 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



3. In this age, we can be one in philanthropic plans 
and benevolent enterprise. Though our opinions on 
minor points may vary, our hearts may be united in the 
noble sentiment of Christian love, and our hands may 
be joined together in doing good to man. It is a 
cheering thought, that the spirit of the times is doing 
much in this way to bring together those whom theo- 
logical dogmas have hitherto separated. Thanks, that 
we can all unite in the circulation of the Scriptures, in 
the great work of education, in prayers and efforts for 
the suppression of war, slavery, and intemperance ! 
Thanks, that we can cooperate in behalf of the impris- 
oned, the poor, and all the less-favored classes of socie- 
ty ! It cannot be that our intercourse in the cause of 
humanity will not do something to soften those asperities, 
and subdue those sectarian prejudices, and break down 
that high wall, which still separates so many who call 
themselves after the same Lord and Master. 

4. It will help forward a Christian union to consider 
the causes of our present disagreement. We are apt to 
ascribe this disagreement to voluntary error, and deter- 
minate resistance of the truth. Nothing would more pro- 
mote harmony among the various denominations, than to 
see, as they might, how little blame should attach, after 
all, to those who embrace opinions opposite to our own. 
There are comparatively few who shut their eyes ob- 
stinately against all new light. How many of us believe 
as we do because of our early education ! how many 
have been biased by our associates, and by the cir- 
cumstances, none of which we could control, amid 
which we have been placed ! Our physical constitution 
gives a cast to our creed ; we believe in matters of re- 
ligion according to our general culture, and the number 



388 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



and character of our ideas on other subjects. Language, 
so limited, and comparatively incapable of defining such 
difficult conceptions as those of theology, misleads mul- 
titudes. We cannot understand the language of the 
Scriptures, their commonest words, — such as God, 
Christ, grace, salvation, faith, — precisely alike. 

I must think, that the involuntary causes of our differ- 
ence are more numerous than the voluntary. There 
are fewer who are actuated by prejudice, passion, un- 
controlled feelings, self-interest, or an habitual indiffer- 
ence to divine truth, than there are who believe as they 
do from associations, influences, and circumstances for 
which they are wholly irresponsible. Did we reflect on 
this fact, our affections would become enlarged ; we 
should " agree to disagree " ; charity, that heavenly 
plant, would be rooted in our hearts, and send up 
branches arrayed in bright leaves, and crowned with 
clustering flowers expressive of the manifold virtues. 

5. Another bond of union is the habit of dwelling, as 
far as truth and conscience will permit, on the ground 
which is common to all sects and all individual believers. 
We differ, it is true, on many doctrines ; but on how 
many more do we agree ! Suppose your neighbour be- 
lieves God to exist in only one person, while you be- 
lieve he exists in three. What is this difference com- 
pared with what would exist between you did he believe 
in no God at all ? On this momentous question, the 
being of a God, he and you are perfectly agreed. He 
regards Christ as a created being, while you consider 
him as " very God of gods." Suppose he denied 
that such a being as Christ had ever existed, or con- 
tended, instead of exalting him, as he now does, to 
a place nearest the Father, that he was a sinful man, 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



389 



no better than ourselves, ■ — imagine that he denied the 
very doctrine of immortality, — would not this separate 
him immeasurably farther from you than the mere cir- 
cumstance that he believes future punishment is to be 
disciplinary and restorative, while you hold it will be 
everlasting ? Thoughts like these may well make us 
blush for the sectarianism of the church of Christ. 
Let there be one denomination, if we can have no 
more, which shall delight in this common ground of 
Christianity ; and let us bring all we can to enlist under 
the star on its banner, for it is C4 the star of Bethle- 
hem." 

V. The view I have presented involves the per- 
formance of two most important duties. 1. It should 
awaken us to new zeal for the discovery and diffusion of 
the essential truths of Christianity. Because men con- 
tend on minor points of belief, it is not the less, but the 
more, needful that we contend earnestly for what we 
regard as the faith once delivered to the saints. If the 
Gospel places unity of spirit above unity of opinion, let 
us contend earnestly for that doctrine. And then, for 
ourselves, whatever views seem to us adapted to exalt 
the Father and to honor the Son, whatever faith prom- 
ises to do most in making men holy, virtuous, and happy, 
for that let us earnestly contend. Jesus Christ u was 
born and came into this world," as he himself affirmed, 
" to bear witness to the truth." No man can think of 
this, and call to mind the toils and tears and death-ago- 
nies of apostles and martyrs and confessors, without feel- 
ing the value of the truth as it is in Jesus. 

2. But be it written on our frontlet, and bound to our 
hearts, that we must speak the truth in love. Let this 
be the anchor that shall hold us to our moorings, amid 



390 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



every wind of doctrine, and amid the waves of contro- 
versy. If we would enlighten or reform our fellow-men, 
we cannot take the first step toward it without the spirit 
of Christ. The church can present no satisfactory ev- 
idence to the world of its divine claims, unless it begin, 
continue, and end its efforts in the Christian spirit. 
" By this," said our Saviour, " shall all men know that 
ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another " ; — 
" I pray that they all may be one in us, that the world 
may believe that thou hast sent me." The great rock 
of offence in all heathen lands, the stone of stumbling 
to infidelity, has been the virulence of our sectarianism. 
When shall we come to think kindly and to speak kindly 
of every professed church of Christ, and every sincere 
and honest believer ? 

We are summoned to give our aid towards this high 
consummation, not only by the wants of the living, but 
by the counsels of the dead. How often do the dying 
disregard all merely speculative opinions, and become 
absorbed in the great sentiment of practical piety ! 
Baxter often expressed himself in the spirit of these 
words: — "The churches must be united upon the 
terms of primitive simplicity; — we must have unity 
in things necessary, liberty in things unnecessary, and 
charity in all." In the latter part of his life, he said, 
— u 1 am much more sensible than ever of the necessity 
of living upon the principles of religion which we are 
all agreed in, and uniting on these. I find in the daily 
practice and experience of my soul, that the knowledge 
of God and Christ and the Holy Spirit, and the truth of 
the Scriptures, and the life to come, and a holy life, is 
of more use to me than all the most curious specula- 
tions." 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



391 



An eminent professor in one of our universities of 
the Baptist denomination, recently deceased, but a few 
days before his death observed, — " The longer I live, 
the more dearly do I prize being a Christian, and the 
more signally unimportant seem to me the differences by 
which true Christians are separated from each other." 
A multitude now gathered above unite in this testimony. 
However parted on earth, they bend over us from their 
common dwelling-place, — Augustine, Luther, Wesley, 
Penn, Fenelon, Watts, Swedenborg, Channing, and how 
many others, their illustrious compeers ! — and bid us 
listen to the prayer of the one Redeemer of them all. 
Memorable are its words ; in the language of another, — - 
" The last note of this divine strain breathes love and 
union, and sweetly closes the most fervent production of 
any spirit that has ever tabernacled in the flesh. Let us 
catch with loving ear this music of his dying voice, as 
it rises and swells with the ecstasy of gratitude and hope, 
trembles with anxiety for his little flock in the midst of 
an angry world, and sinks away in a joyful cadence of 
eternal glory, love, and blessedness, in which hover 
images of peace and union between himself, his dis- 
ciples, and his Father, in the everlasting home of 
heaven." 



THE END, 



n 12.4 82. 





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